Sigmund Freud .........................................................................................................................................1

Professor Freud developed his system of psychoanalysis while studying the socalled borderline cases of

mental diseases, such as hysteria and compulsionneurosis. By discarding the old methods of treatment and

strictly applying himself to a study of the patient's life he discovered that the hitherto puzzling symptoms had

a definite meaning, and that there was nothing arbitrary in any morbid manifestation. Psychoanalysis always

showed that they referred to some definite problem or conflict of the person concerned. It was while tracing

back the abnormal to the normal state that Professor Freud found how faint the line of demarcation was

between the normal and neurotic person,and that the psychopathologic mechanisms so glaringly observed in

the psychoneuroses and psychoses could usually be demonstrated in a lesser degree in normal persons. This

led to a study of the faulty actions of everyday life and later to the publication of the Psychopathology of

Everyday Life, a book which passed through four editions in Germany and is considered the author's most

popular work. With great ingenuity and penetration the author throws much light on the complex problems of

human behavior, and clearly demonstrates that the hitherto considered impassable gap betweennormal and

This translation is made of the fourth German edition, and while the original text was strictly followed,

linguistic difficulties often madeit necessary to modify or substitute some of the author's cases by examples

An internet resource developed by Christopher D. Green York University, Toronto, Ontario

During the year 1898 I published a short essay On the Psychic Mechanism of Forgetfulness.[1] I shall now

repeat its contents and take it as a startingpoint for further discussion. I have there undertaken a psychologic

analysis of a common case of temporary forgetfulness of proper names, and from a pregnant example of my

own observation I have reached the conclusion that this frequent and practically unimportant occurrence of a

failure of a psychic function of memory admits an explanation which goes beyond the customary

If an average psychologist should be asked to explain how it happens that we often fail to recall a name

which we are sure we know, he would probably content himself with the answer that proper names are more

apt to be forgotten than any other content of memory. He might give plausible reasons for this "forgetting

pre ference" for proper names, but he would not assume any deep determinant for the process.

I was led to examine exhaustively the phenomenon of temporary forgetfulness through the observation of

certain peculiarities, which, although not general, can, nevertheless, be seen clearly in some cases. In these

there is not only forgetfulness, but also false recollection: he who strives for the escaped name brings to

consciousness others substitutive names which, although immediately recognized as false,

nevertheless obtrude themselves with great tenacity. The process which should lead to the reproduction of the

lost name is, as it were, displaced, and thus brings one to an incorrect substitute.

Now it is my assumption that the displacement is not left to psychic arbitrariness, but that it follows lawful

and rational paths. In other words, I assume that the substitutive name (or names) stands in direct relation to

the lost name, and I hope, if I succeed in demonstrating this connection, to throw light on the origin of the

In the example which I selected for analysis in 1898 I vainly strove to recall the name of the master who

made the imposing frescoes of the "Last Judgment" in the dome of Orvieto. Instead of the lost name

Signorelli two other names of artists Botticelli and Boltraffio obtruded themselves, names which

my judg ment immediately and definitely rejected as being incorrect. When the correct name was imparted

to me by an outsider I recognized it at once without any hesitation. The examination of the influence and

association paths which caused the displacement from Signorelli to Botticelli and Boltraffio led to the

(a) The reason for the escape of the name Signorelli is neither to be sought in the strangeness in itself of this

name nor in the psychologic character of the connection in which it was inserted. The forgotten name was

just as familiar to me as one of the substitutive names Botticelli and somewhat more familiar than the

other substitute Boltraffio of the possessor of which I could hardly say more than that he belonged to

the Milanese School. The connection, too, in which the forgetting of the name took place appeared to me

harmless, and led to no further explanation. I journeyed by carriage with a stranger from Ragusa, Dalmatia, to

a station in Herzegovina. Our conversation drifted to travelling in Italy, and I asked my companion whether

(b) The forgetting of the name could not be explained until after I had recalled the theme discussed

immediately before this conversation. This forgetting then made itself known as a disturbance of the newly

emerging theme caused by the theme preceding it. In brief, before I asked my travelling companion if he had

been in Orvieto we had been discussing the customs of the Turks living in Bosnia and Herzegovina. I had

related what I heard from a colleague who was practising medicine among them, namely, that they show full

confidence in the physician and complete submission to fate. When one is compelled to inform them that

there is no help for the patient, they answer: "Sir (Herr), what can I say? I know that if he could be saved you

would save him." In these sentences alone we can find the words and names: Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Herr

(sir), which may be inserted in an association series between Signorelli, Botticelli, and Boltraffio.

disturb the next thought, because I withdrew my attention from it before it came to an end. For I recalled that

I wished to relate a second anecdote which was next to the first in my memory. These Turks value the sexual

pleasure above all else, and at sexual disturbances merge into an utter despair which strangely contrasts with

their resignation at the peril of losing their lives. One of my colleague's patients once told him: "For you

I refrained from imparting this characteristic feature because I did not wish to touch upon such a delicate

theme in conversation with a stranger. But I went still further; I also deflected my attention from the

continuation of the thought which might have associated itself in me with the theme "Death and Sexuality." I

was at that time under the aftereffects of a message which I had received a few weeks before, during a brief

sojourn in Trafoi. A patient on whom I had spent much effort had ended his life on account of an incurable

sexual disturbance. I know positively that this sad event, and everything connected with it, did not come to

my conscious recollection on that trip in Herzegovina. However, the agreement between Trafoi and Boltraffio

forces me to assume that this reminiscence was at that time brought to activity despite all the intentional

(d) I can no longer conceive the forgetting of the name Signorelli as an accidental occurrence. I must

recognize in this process the influence of a motive. There were motives which actuated the interruption in the

communication of my thoughts (concerning the customs of the Turks, etc.), and which later influenced me to

exclude from my consciousness the thought connected with them, and which might have led to the message

concerning the incident in Trafoi that is, I wanted to forget something, I repressed something. To be sure,

I wished to forget something other than the name of the master of Orvieto; but this other thought brought

about an associative connection between itself and this name, so that my act of volition missed the aim, and I

forgot the one against my will, while I intentionally wished to forget the other. The disinclination to recall

directed itself against the one content; the inability to remember appeared in another. The case would have

been obviously simpler if this disinclination and the inability to remember had concerned the same content.

The substitutive names no longer seem so thoroughly justified as they were before this explanation. They

remind me (after the form of a compromise) as much of what I wished to forget as of what I wished to

remember, and show me that my object to forget something was neither a perfect success nor a failure.

(e) The nature of the association formed between the lost name and the repressed theme (death and sexuality,

etc.), containing the names of Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Trafoi, is also very strange. In the scheme inserted

here, which originally appeared in 1898, an attempt is made to graphically represent these associations.

The name Signorelli was thus divided into two parts. One pair of syllables (elli) returned unchanged in one of

the substitutions, while the other had gained, through the translation of signor (sir, Herr), many and diverse

relations to the name contained in the repressed theme, but was lost through it in the reproduction. Its

substitution was formed in a way to suggest that a displacement took place along the same associations

"Herzegovina and Bosnia" regardless of the sense and acoustic demarcation. The names were therefore

treated in this process like the written pictures of a sentence which is to be transformed into a picturepuzzle

(rebus). No information was given to consciousness concerning the whole process, which, instead of the

name Signorelli, was thus changed to the substitutive names. At first sight no relation is apparent between the

theme that contained the name Signorelli and the repressed one which immediately preceded it.

Perhaps it is not superfluous to remark that the given explanation does not contradict the conditions of

memory reproduction and forgetting assumed by other psychologists, which they seek in certain relations and

dispositions. Only in certain cases have we added another motive to the factors long recognized as causative

in forgetting names, and have thus laid bare the mechanism of faulty memory. The assumed dispositions are

indispensable also in our case, in order to make it possible for the repressed element to associatively gain

control over the desired name and take it along into the repression. Perhaps this would not have occurred in

another name having more favourable conditions of reproduction. For it is quite probable that a suppressed

element continually strives to assert itself in some other way, but attains this success only where it meets with

suitable conditions. At other times the suppression succeeds without disturbance of function, or, as we may

When we recapitulate the conditions for forgetting a name with faulty recollection we find:

(1) a certain disposition to forget the same; (2) a process of suppression which has taken place shortly before;

and (3) the possibility of establishing an outer association between the concerned name and the element

previously suppressed. The last condition will probably not have to be much overrated, for the slightest claim

on the association is apt in most cases to bring it about. But it is a different and fartherreaching question

whether such outer association can really furnish the proper condition to enable the suppressed element to

disturb the reproduction of the desired name, or whether after all a more intimate connection between the two

themes is not necessarily required. On superficial consideration one may be willing to reject the latter

requirement and consider the temporal meeting in perfectly dissimilar contents as sufficient. But on more

thorough examination one finds more and more frequently that the two elements (the repressed and the new

one) connected by an outer association, possess besides a connection in content, and this can also be

The value of the understanding gained through the analysis of the example Signorelli naturally depends on

whether we must explain this case as a typical or as an isolated process. I must now maintain that the

forgetting of a name associated with faulty recollection uncommonly often follows the same process as was

demonstrated in the case of Signorelli. Almost every time that I observed this phenomenon in myself I was

able to explain it in the manner indicated above as being motivated by repression.

I must mention still another viewpoint in favour of the typical nature of our analysis. I believe that one is

not justified in separating the cases of nameforgetting with faulty recollection from those in which incorrect

substitutive names have not obtruded themselves. These substitutive names occur spontaneously in a number

of cases; in other cases, where they do not come spontaneously, they can be brought to the surface by

concentration of attention, and they then show the same relation to the repressed element and the lost name as

those that come spontaneously. Two factors seem to play a part in bringing to consciousness the substitutive

names: first, the effort of attention, and second, and inner determinant which adheres to the psychic material.

I could find the latter in the greater or lesser facility which forms the required outer associations between the

two elements. A great many of the cases of nameforgetting without faulty recollection therefore belong to

the cases with substitutive name formation, the mechanism of which corresponds to the one in the example

Signorelli. But I surely shall not venture to assert that all cases of nameforgetting belong to the same group.

There is no doubt that there are cases of nameforgetting that proceed in a much simpler way. We shall

represent this state of affairs carefully enough if we assert that besides the simple forgetting of proper names

The ordinary vocabulary of our own language seems to be protected against forgetting within the limits of

normal function, but it is quite different with words from a foreign language. The tendency to forget such

words extends to all parts of speech. In fact, depending on our own general state and the degree of fatigue, the

first manifestation of functional disturbance evinces itself in the irregularity of our control over foreign

vocabulary. In a series of cases this forgetting follows the same mechanism as the one revealed in the

example Signorelli. As a demonstration of this I shall report a single analysis, characterized, however, by

valuable features, concerning the forgetting of a word, not a noun, from a Latin quotation. Before proceeding,

Last summer, while journeying on my vacation, I renewed the acquaintance of a young man of academic

education, who, as I soon noticed, was conversant with some of my works. In our con versation we drifted

I no longer remember how to the social position of the race to which we both belonged. He, being

ambitious, bemoaned the fact that his generation, as he expressed it, was destined to grow crippled, that it

was prevented from developing its talents and from gratifying its desires. He concluded his passionately felt

speech with the familiar verse from Virgil: Exoriare . . . in which the unhappy Dido leaves her vengeance

upon �neas to posterity. Instead of "concluded," I should have said "wished to conclude," for he could not

bring the quotation to an end, and attempted to conceal the open gap in his memory by transposing the words:

"Exoriar(e) ex nostris ossibus ultor!" He finally became piqued and said: "Please don't make such a mocking

face, as if you were gloating over my embarrassment, but help me. There is something missing in this verse.

"Exoriar(e) aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor!" "It is too stupid to forget such a word," he said. "By the way, I

understand you claim that forgetting is not without its reasons; I should be very curious to find out how I

I gladly accepted the challenge, as I hoped to get an addition to my collection, and said, "We can easily do

this, but I must ask you to tell me frankly and without any criticism everything that occurs to your mind after

you focus your attention, without any particular intention, on the forgotten word."[1]

"Very well, the ridiculous idea comes to me to divide the word in the following way: a and liquis."

"I now think," he said, laughing sarcastically, "of Simon of Trent, whose relics I saw two years ago in a

church in Trent. I think of the old accusation which has been brought against the Jews again, and of the work

of Kleinpaul, who sees in these supposed sacrifices reincarnations or revivals, so to speak, of the Saviour."

"This stream of thoughts has some connection with the theme which we discussed before the Latin word

"You are right. I now think of an article in an Italian journal which I have recently read. I believe it was

entitled: 'What St. Augustine said Concerning Women.' What can you do with this?"

"Oh, I know! I recall a handsome old gentleman whom I met on my journey last week. He was really an

original type. He looked like a big bird of prey. His name, if you care to know, is Benedict."

"Well, at least you give a grouping of saints and Church fathers: St. Simon, St. Augustine, and St. Benedict. I

believe that there was a Church father named Origines. Three of these, moreover, are Christian names, like

"Now I think of St. Januarius and his blood miracle I find that the thoughts are running mechanically."

"Just stop a moment; both St. Januarius and St. Augustine have something to do with the calendar. Will you

"Don't you know about it? The blood of St. Januarius is preserved in a phial in a church in Naples, and on a

certain holiday a miracle takes place causing it to liquefy. The people think a great deal of this miracle, and

become very excited if the liquefying process is retarded, as happened once during the French occupation.

The General in command or Garibaldi, if I am not mistaken then took the priest aside, and with a very

significant gesture pointed out to him the soldiers arrayed without, and expressed his hope that the miracle

"Something really occurred to me . . . but it is too intimate a matter to impart . . . besides, I see no connection

"I will take care of the connection. Of course I cannot compel you to reveal what is disagreeable to you, but

then you should not have demanded that I tell you why you forgot the word 'aliquis.'"

"Really? Do you think so? Well, I suddenly thought of a woman from whom I could easily get a message that

"That was not very difficult. You prepared me for it long enough. Just think of the saints of the calendar, the

liquefying of the blood on a certain day, the excitement if the event does not take place, and the distinct threat

that the miracle must take place. . . . Indeed, you have elaborated the miracle of St. Januarius into a clever

"It was surely without my knowledge. And do you really believe that my inability to reproduce the word

"That appears to me absolutely certain. Don't you recall dividing it into aliquis and the associations:

reliques, liquidation, fluid? Shall I also add to this connection the fact that St. Simon, to whom you got by

"Please stop. I hope you do not take these thoughts if I really entertained them seriously. I will,

however, confess to you that the lady is Italian, and that I visited Naples in her company. But may not all this

"I must leave to your own judgment whether you can explain all these connections through the assumption of

coincidence. I will tell you, however, that every similar case that you analyse will lead you to just such

I have more than one reason for valuing this little analysis, for which I am indebted to my travelling

companion. First, because in this case I was able to make use of a source which is otherwise inaccessible to

me. Most of the examples of psychic disturbances of daily life that I have here compiled I was obliged to take

from observation of myself. I endeavoured to evade the far richer material furnished me by my neurotic

patients, because I had to preclude the objection that the phenomena in question were only the result and

manifestation of the neurosis. It was therefore of special value for my purpose to have a stranger free from a

neurosis offer himself as a subject for such examination. This analysis is also important in other respects,

inasmuch as it elucidates a case of wordforgetting without substitutive recollection, and thus confirms the

principle formulated above, namely, that the appearance or nonappearance of incorrect substitutive

But the principal value of the example aliquis lies in another of its distinctions from the case Signorelli. In the

latter example the reproduction of the name becomes disturbed through the aftereffects of a stream of

thought which began shortly before and was interrupted, but whose content had no distinct relation to the new

theme which contained the name Signorelli. Between the repression and the theme of the forgotten name

there existed only the relation of temporal contiguity, which reached the other in order that the two should be

able to form a connection through an outer association.[3] On the other hand, in the example aliquis one can

note no trace of such an independent repressed theme which could occupy conscious thought immediately

before and then reecho as a disturbance. The disturbance of the reproduction proceeded here from the inner

part of the theme touched upon, and was brought about by the fact that unconsciously a contradiction arose

The origin must be construed in the following manner: The speaker deplored the fact that the present

generation of his people was being deprived of its rights, and like Dido he presaged that a new generation

would take upon itself vengeance against the oppressors. He therefore expressed the wish for posterity. In this

moment he was interrupted by the contradictory thought: "Do you really wish so much for posterity? That is

not true. Just think in what a predicament you would be if you should now receive the information that you

must expect posterity from the quarter you have in mind! No, you want no posterity as much as you need

it for your venge ance." This contradiction asserts itself, just as in the example Signorelli, by forming an

outer association between one of his ideation elements and an element of the repressed wish, but here it is

brought about in a most strained manner through what seems an artificial detour of associations. Another

important agreement with the example Signorelli results from the fact that the contradiction originates from

repressed sources and emanates from thoughts which would cause a deviation of attention.

So much for the diversity and the inner relationship of both paradigms of the forgetting of names. We have

learned to know a second mechanism of forgetting, namely, the disturbance of thought through an inner

contradiction emanating from the repression. In the course of this discussion we shall repeatedly meet with

Footnotes [1] This is the usual way of bringing to consciousness hidden ideas. Cf. The Interpretation of

Dreams, pp. 834, translated by A. A. Brill, The Macmillan Company, New York, and Allen, London.

[2] Finer observation reduces somewhat the contrast between the analyses of Signorelli and aliquis as far as

the substitutive recollections are concerned. Here, too, the forgetting seems to be accompanied by substitutive

formations. When I later asked my companion whether in his effort to recall the forgotten word he did not

think of some substitution, he informed me that he was at first tempted to put an ab into the verse: nostris ab

ossibus (perhaps the disjointed part of aliquis) and that later the word exoriare obtruded itself with particular

distinctness and persistency. Being sceptical, he added that it was apparently due to the fact that it was the

first word of the verse. But when I asked him to focus his attention on the associations to exoriare he gave me

the word exorcism. This makes me think that the reinforcement of exoriare in the reproduction has really the

value of such substitution. It probably came through the association exorcism from the names of the saints.

However, those are refinements upon which no value need be laid. It seems now quite possible that the

appearance of any kind of substitutive recollection is a constant sign perhaps only characteristic and

misleading of the purposive forgetting motivated by repression. This substitution might also exist in the

reinforcement of an element akin to the thing forgotten, even where incorrect substitutive names fail to

appear. Thus, in the example Signorelli, as long as the name of the painter remained inaccessible to me, I had

more than a clear visual memory of the cycle of his frescoes, and of the picture of himself in the corner; at

least it was more intensive than any of my other visual memory traces. In another case, also reported in my

essay of 1898, I had hopelessly forgotten the street name and address connected with a disagreeable visit in a

strange city, but as if to mock me the house number appeared especially vivid, whereas the memory of

[3] I am not fully convinced of the lack of an inner connection between the two streams of thought in the case

of Signorelli. In carefully following the repressed thought concerning the theme of death and sexual life, one

does strike an idea which shows a near relation to the theme of the frescoes of Orvieto.

Experiences like those mentioned concerning the process of forgetting a part of the order of words from a

foreign language may cause one to wonder whether the forgetting of the order of words in one's own

language requires an essentially different explanation. To be sure, one is not wont to be surprised if after

awhile a formula or poem learned by heart can only be reproduced imperfectly, with variations and gaps.

Still, as this forgetting does not affect equally all the things learned together, but seems to pick out therefrom

definite parts, it may be worth our effort to investigate analytically some examples of such faulty

"While conversing one day with a very brilliant young woman she had occasion to quote from Keats. The

She hesitated many times during the recitation, being sure that there was something wrong with the last line. To her great surprise, on referring to the book she found that not only was the last line misquoted but that there were many other mistakes. The correct lines read as follows:

ODE TO APOLLO "'In thy western halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state, Bards, that erst sublimely

The words italicized are those that have been forgotten and replaced by others during the recitation.

"She was astonished at her many mistakes, and attributed them to a failure of memory. I could readily

convince her, however, that there was no qualitative or quantitative disturbance of memory in her case, and

"We were discussing the overestimation of personality among lovers, and she thought it was Victor Hugo

who said that love is the greatest thing in the world because it makes an angel or a god out of a grocery clerk.

She continued: "Only when we are in love have we blind faith in humanity; everything is perfect, everything

is beautiful, and . . . everything is so poetically unreal. Still, it is a wonderful experience; worth going

through, notwithstanding the terrible disappointments that usually follow. It puts us on a level with the gods

and incites us to all sorts of artistic activities. We become real poets; we not only memorize and quote poetry,

"When I asked on what occasion she memorized the lines she could not recall. As a teacher of elocution she

was wont to memorize so much and so often that it was difficult to tell just when she had memorized these

lines. 'Judging by the conversation,' I suggested, 'it would seem that this poem is intimately associated with

the idea of overestimation of personality of one in love. Have you perhaps memorized this poem when you

were in such a state?' She became thoughtful for a while and soon recalled the following facts: Twelve years

before, when she was eighteen years old, she fell in love. She met the young man while participating in an

amateur theatrical performance. He was at the time studying for the stage, and it was predicated that some

day he would be a matin�e idol. He was endowed with all the attributes needed for such a calling. He was

well built, fascinating, impulsive, very clever, and . . . very fickleminded. She was warned against him, but

she paid no heed, attributing it all to the envy of her counsellors. Everything went well for a few months,

when she suddenly received word that her Apollo, for whom she had memorized these lines, had eloped with

and married a very wealthy young woman. A few years later she heard that he was living in a Western city,

"The misquoted lines are now quite plain. The discussion about the overestimation of personality among

lovers unconsciously recalled to her a disagreeable experience, when she herself overestimated the

personality of the man she loved. She thought he was a god, but he turned out to be even worse than the

average mortal. The episode could not come to the surface because it was determined by very disagreeable

and painful thoughts, but the unconscious variations in the poem plainly showed her present mental state. The

poetic expressions were not only changed to prosaic ones, but they clearly alluded to the whole episode."

Another example of forgetting the order of words of a poem well known to the person I shall cite from Dr. C.

"A man wished to recite the familiar poem, 'A Pinetree Stands Alone,' etc. In the line 'He felt drowsy' he

became hopelessly stuck at the words 'with the white sheet.' This forgetting of such a wellknown verse

seemed to me rather peculiar, and I therefore asked him to reproduce what came to his mind when he thought

of the words 'with the white sheet.' He gave the following series of associations 'The white sheet makes one

think of a white sheet on a corpse a linen sheet with which one covers a dead body [pause] now I

think of a near friend his brother died quite recently he is supposed to have died of heart disease he

was also very corpulent my friend is corpulent, too, and I thought that he might meet the same fate

probably he doesn't exercise enough when I heard of this death I suddenly became frightened: the same

thing might happen to me, as my own family is predisposed to obesity my grandfather died of heart

disease I, also, am somewhat too corpulent, and for that reason I began an obesity cure a few days ago.'"

Jung remarks: "The man had unconsciously immediately identified himself with the pinetree which was

For the following example of forgetting the order of words I am indebted to my friend Dr. Ferenczi, of

Budapest. Unlike the former examples, it does not refer to a verse taken from poetry, but to a selfcoined

saying. It may also demonstrate to us the rather unusual case where the forgetting places itself at the disposal

of discretion when the latter is in danger of yielding to a momentary desire. The mistake thus advances to a

useful function. After we have sobered down we justify that inner striving which at first could manifest itself

"At a social gathering some one quoted, Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner, to which I remarked that the

first part of the sentence should suffice, as 'pardoning' is an exemption which must be left to God and the

priest. One of the guests thought this observation very good, which in turn emboldened me to remark

probably to ensure myself of the good opinion of the welldisposed critic that some time ago I thought of

something still better. But when I was about to repeat this clever idea I was unable to recall it. Thereupon I

immediately withdrew from the company and wrote my concealing thoughts. I first recalled the name of the

friend who had witnessed the birth of this (desired) thought, and of the street in Budapest where it took place,

and then the name of another friend, whose name was Max, whom we usually called Maxie. That led me to

the word 'maxim,' and to the thought that at that time, as in the present case, it was a question of varying a

wellknown maxim. Strangely enough, I did not recall any maxim but the following sentence: 'God created

man in His own image,' and its changed conception, 'Man created God in his own image. Immediately I

"My friend said to me at that time in Andrassy Street, 'Nothing human is foreign to me.' To which I remarked,

basing it on psychoanalytic experience, "You should go further and acknowledge that nothing animal is

"But after I had finally found the desired recollection I was even then prevented from telling it in this social

gathering. The young wife of the friend whom I had reminded of the animality of the unconscious was also

among those present, and I was perforce reminded that she was not at all prepared for the reception of such

unsympathetic views. The forgetting spared me a number of unpleasant questions from her and a hopeless

"It is interesting to note that as a concealing thought there emerged a sentence in which the deity is degraded

to a human invention, while in the soughtfor sentence there was an allusion to the animal in the man. The

capitis diminutio is therefore common to both. The whole matter was apparently only a continuation of the

stream of thought concerning understanding and forgiving which was stimulated by the discussion.

"That the desired thought so rapidly appeared may be also due to the fact that I withdrew into a vacant room,

I have since then analysed a large number of cases of forgetting or faulty reproduction of the order of words,

and the consistent result of these investigations led me to assume that the mechanisms of forgetting as

demonstrated in the examples "aliquis" and "Ode to Apollo," are almost of universal validity. It is not always

very convenient to report such analyses, for, just as those cited, they usually lead to intimate and painful

things in the person analysed; I shall therefore add no more to the number of such examples. What is

common to all these cases, regardless of the material, is the fact that the forgotten or distorted material

becomes connected through some associative road with an unconscious stream of thought, which gives rise to

I am now returning to the forgetting of names, concerning which we have so far considered exhaustively

neither the casuistic elements nor the motives. As this form of faulty acts can at times be abundantly observed

in myself, I am not at a loss for examples. The slight attacks of migraine, from which I am still suffering, are

wont to announce themselves hours before through the forgetting of names, and at the height of the attack,

during which I am not forced, however, to give up my work, I am often unable to recall all proper names.

Still, just such cases as mine may furnish the cause for a strong objection to our analytic efforts. Should not

one be forced to conclude from such observations that the causation of the forgetfulness, especially the

forgetting of names, is to be sought in circulatory or functional disturbances of the brain, and spare himself

the trouble of searching for psychologic explanations for these phenomena? Not at all; that would mean to

interchange the mechanism of a process, which is the same in all cases, with its variations. But instead of an

Let us assume that I was so reckless as to take a walk at night in an uninhabited neighbourhood of a big city,

and was attacked and robbed of my watch and purse. At the nearest policestation I report the matter in the

following words: "I was in this or that street, and was there robbed of my watch and purse by lonesomeness

and darkness." Although these words would not express anything that is incorrect, I would, nevertheless, run

the danger of being considered judging from the wording of this report as not quite right in the head.

To be correct, the state of affairs could only be described by saying that, favoured by the lonesomeness of the

place and under cover of darkness, I was robbed of my valuables by unknown malefactors.

Now, then, the state of affairs in forgetting names need not be different. Favoured by exhaustion, circulatory

disturbances, and intoxication, I am robbed by an unknown psychic force of the disposal over the proper

names belonging to my memory; it is the same force which in other cases may bring about the same failure of

When I analyse those cases of nameforgetting occurring in myself, I find almost regularly that the name

withheld shows some relation to a theme which concerns my own person, and is apt to provoke in me strong

and often painful emotions. Following the convenient and commendable practice of the Zurich School

(Bleuler, Jung, Riklin), I might express the same thing in the following form: The name withheld has touched

a "personal complex" in me. The relation of the name to my person is an unexpected one, and is mostly

brought about through superficial associations (words of double meaning and of similar sounds); it may

generally be designated as a side association. A few simple examples will best illustrate the nature of the

(a) A patient requested me to recommend to him a sanatorium in the Riviera. I knew of such a place very near

Genoa, I also recalled the name of the German colleague who was in charge of the place, but the place itself I

could not name, well as I believed I knew it. There was nothing left to do but ask the patient to wait, and to

"Just what is the name of the place near Genoa where Dr. X. has his small institution in which Mrs.

(b) Another patient spoke about a neighbouring summer resort, and maintained that besides the two familiar

inns there was a third. I disputed the existence of any third inn, and referred to the fact that I had spent seven

summers in the vicinity and therefore knew more about the place than he. Instigated by my contradiction, he

recalled the name. The name of the third inn was "The Hochwartner." Of course, I had to admit it; indeed, I

was forced to confess that for seven summers I had lived near this very inn whose existence I had so

strenuously denied. But why should I have forgotten the name and the object? I believe because the name

sounded very much like that of a Vienna colleague who practised the same specialty as my own. It touched in

very familiar name of the next big railroad station which I had so often passed. I was forced to look it up in

the timetable. The name was Rosehome (Rosenheim). I soon discovered through what associations I lost it.

An hour earlier I had visited my sister in her home near Reichenhall; my sister's name is Rose, hence also a

(d) This predatory influence of the "family complex" I can demonstrate in a whole series of complexes.

One day I was consulted by a young man, younger brother of one of my female patients, whom I saw any

number of times, and whom I used to call by his fist name. Later, while wishing to talk about his visit, I

forgot his first name, in no way an unusual one, and could not recall it in any way. I walked into the street to

The analysis showed that I had formed a parallel between the visitor and my own brother which centred in the

question: "Would my brother, in a similar case, have behaved like him or even more contrarily?" The outer

connection between the thoughts concerning the stranger and my own family was rendered possible through

the accident that the name of the mothers in each case was the same, Amelia. Subsequently I also understood

the substitutive names, Daniel and Frank, which obtruded themselves without any explanation. These names,

as well as Amelia, belong to Schiller's play The Robbers; they are all connected with a joke of the Vienna

(e) On another occasion I was unable to find a patient's name which had a certain reference to my early life.

The analysis had to be followed over a long devious road before the desired name was discovered. The

patient expressed his apprehension lest he should lose his eyesight; this recalled a young man who became

blind from a gunshot, and this again led to a picture of another youth who shot himself, and the latter bore the

same name as my first patient, though not at all related to him. The name became known to me, however,

only after the anxious apprehension from these two juvenile cases was transferred to a person of my own

Thus an incessant stream of "selfreference" flows through my thoughts concerning which I usually have no

inkling, but which betrays itself through such nameforgetting. It seems as if I were forced to compare with

my own person all that I hear about strangers, as if my personal complexes became stirred up at every

information from others. It seems impossible that this should be an individual peculiarity of my own person;

it must, on the contrary, point to the way we grasp outside matters in general. I have reasons to assume that

The best example of this kind was reported to me by a gentleman named Lederer as a personal experience.

While on his wedding trip in Venice he came across a man with whom he was but slightly acquainted, and

whom he was obliged to introduce to his wife. As he forgot the name of the stranger he got himself out of the

embarrassment the first time by mumbling the name unintelligibly. But when he met the man a second time,

as is inevitable in Venice, he took him aside and begged him to help him out of the difficulty by telling him

his name, which he unfortunately had forgotten. The answer of the stranger pointed to a superior knowledge

of human nature: "I readily believe that you did not grasp my name. My name is like yours Lederer!"

One cannot suppress a slight feeling of unpleasantness on discovering his own name in a stranger. I had

recently felt it very plainly when I was consulted during my office hours by a man named S. Freud. However,

I am assured by one of my own critics that in this respect he behaves in quite the opposite manner.

(f) The effect of personal relation can be recognized also in the following examples reported by Jung.[2]

"Mr. Y. falls in love with a lady who soon thereafter marries Mr. X. In spite of the fact that Mr. Y. was an old

acquaintance of Mr. X., and had business relations with him, he repeatedly forgot the name, and on a number

of occasions, when wishing to correspond with X., he was obliged to ask other people for his name."

However, the motivation for the forgetting is more evident in this case than in the preceding ones, which

were under the constellation of the personal reference. Here the forgetting is manifestly a direct result of the

(g) The following case, reported by Ferenczi, the analysis of which is especially instructive through the

explanation of the substitutive thoughts (like 'BotticelliBoltraffio to Signorelli), shows in a somewhat

"A lady who heard something about psycho analysis could not recall the name of the psychiatrist, Young

"Instead, the following names occurred to her: K1. (a name) Wilde Nietzsche Hauptmann.

"I did not tell her the name, and requested her to repeat her free associations to every thought.

"To K1. she at once thought of Mrs. K1., that she was an embellished and affected person who looked very

well for her age. 'She does not age.' As a general and principal conception of Wilde and Nietzsche, she gave

the association 'mental disease.' She then added jocosely: 'The Freudians will continue looking for the causes

of mental diseases until they themselves become insane.' She continued: 'I cannot bear Wilde and Nietzsche. I

do not understand them. I hear that they were both homosexual. Wilde has occupied himself with young

people' (although she uttered in this sentence the correct name she still could not remember it).

"To Hauptmann she associated the words half and youth, and only after I called her attention to the word

It is clear that this lady, who had lost her husband at the age of thirtynine, and had no prospect of marrying a

second time, had cause enough to avoid reminiscences recalling youth or old age. The remarkable thing is

that the concealing thoughts of the desired name came to the surface as simple associations of content without

(h) Still different and very finely motivated is an example of nameforgetting which the person concerned

"While taking an examination in philosophy as a minor subject I was questioned by the examiner about the

teachings of Epicurus, and was asked whether I knew who took up his teachings centuries later. I answered

that it was Pierre Gassendi, whom two days before while in a caf� I had happened to hear spoken of as a

follower of Epicurus. To the question how I knew this I boldly replied that I had taken an interest in Gassendi

for a long time. This resulted in a certificate with a magna cum laude, but later, unfortunately, also in a

persistent tendency to forget the name Gassendi. I believe that it is due to my guilty conscience that even now

I cannot retain this name despite all efforts. I had no business knowing it at that time."

To have a proper appreciation of the intense repugnance entertained by our narrator against the recollection

of this examination episode, one must have realized how highly he prizes his doctor's degree, and for how

I add here another example of forgetting the name of a city, an instance which is perhaps not as simple as

those given before, but which will appear credible and valuable to those more familiar with such

investigations. The name of an Italian city withdrew itself from memory on account of its farreaching

soundsimilarity to a woman's first name, which was in turn connected with various emotional reminiscences

which were surely not exhaustively treated in this report. Dr. S. Ferenczi, who observed this case of

forgetting in himself, treated it quite justly as an analysis of a dream or an erotic idea.

"Today I visited some old friends, and the conversation turned to cities of Northern Italy. Some one

remarked that they still showed the Austrian influence. A few of these cities were cited. I, too, wished to

mention one, but the name did not come to me, although I knew that I had spent two very pleasant days there;

this, of course, does not quite concur with Freud's theory of forgetting. Instead of the desired name of the city

there obtruded themselves the following thoughts: 'Capua Brescia the lion of Brescia.' This lion I saw

objectively before me in the form of a marble statue, but I soon noticed that he resembled less the lion of the

statue of liberty in Brescia (which I saw only in a picture) than the other marble lion which I saw in Lucerne

on the monument in honour of the Swiss Guard fallen in the Tuileries. I finally thought of the desired name:

"I knew at once the cause of this amnesia. No other than a former servant of the family whom I visited at the

time. Her name was Veronica; in Hungarian Verona. I felt a great antipathy for her on account of her

repulsive physiognomy, as well as her hoarse, shrill voice and her unbearable selfassertion (to which she

thought herself entitled on account of her long service). Also the tyrannical way in which she treated the

children of the family was insufferable to me. Now I knew the significance of the substitutive thoughts.

"To Capua I immediately associated caput mortuum. I had often compared Veronica's head to a skull. The

Hungarian word kapzoi (greed after money) surely furnished a determinant for the displacement. Naturally I

also found those more direct associations which connected Capua and Verona as geographical ideas and as

"The same held true for Brescia; here, too, I found concealed sidetracks of associations of ideas.

"My antipathy at that time was so violent that I thought Veronica very ugly, and have often expressed my

astonishment at the fact that any one should love her: 'Why, to kiss her,' I said, 'must provoke nausea.'

"Brescia, at least in Hungary, is very often mentioned not in connection with the lion but with another wild

beast. The most hated name in this country, as well as in North Italy, is that of General Haynau, who is

briefly referred to as the hyena of Brescia. From the hated tyrant Haynau one stream of thought leads over

Brescia to the city of Verona, and the other over the idea of the gravedigging animal with the hoarse voice

(which corresponds to the thought of a monument to the dead), to the skull, and to the disagreeable organ of

Veronica, which was so cruelly insulted in my unconscious mind. Veronica in her time ruled as tyranically as

"Lucerne is associated with the idea of the summer which Veronica spent with her employers in a place near

Lucerne. The Swiss Guard again recalls that she tyrannized not only the children but also the adult members

"I expressly observe that this antipathy of mine against V. consciously belongs to things long overcome.

Since that time she has changed in her appearance and manner, very much to her advantage, so that I am able

to meet her with sincere regard (to be sure I hardly find such occasion). As usual, however, my unconscious

"The Tuileries represent an allusion to a second personality, an old French lady who actually 'guarded' the

women of the house, and who was in high regard and somewhat feared by everybody. For a long time I was

her �l�ve in French conversation. The word �l�ve recalls that when I visited the brotherinlaw of my present

host in northern Bohemia I had to laugh a great deal because the rural population referred to the �l�ves

(pupils) of the school of forestry as l�wen (lions). Also this jocose recollection might have taken part in the

(i) The following example can also show how a personal complex swaying the person at the time being may

Two men, an elder and a younger, who had travelled together in Sicily six months before, exchanged

"Let's see, what was the name of that place," asked the younger, "where we passed the night before taking the

The elder rejected this by saying: "Certainly not; but I have forgotten the name, too, although I can recall

perfectly all the details of the place. Whenever I hear some one forget a name it immediately produces

forgetfulness in me. Let us look for the name. I cannot think of any other name except Caltanisetta, which is

"I really meant a v, and I said w because I am accustomed to interchange them in my mother tongue."

The elder, however, objected to the v. He added: "I believe that I have already forgotten many of the Sicilian

names. Suppose we try to find out. For example, what is the name of the place situated on a height which was

"Oh, I know that: Castrogiovanni." In the next moment the younger man discovered the lost name. He cried

For a moment the elder still lacked the feeling of recognition, but after he accepted the name he was able to

state why it had escaped him. He thought: "Obviously because the second half, vetrano, suggests veteran. I

am aware that I am not quite anxious to think of ageing, and react peculiarly when I am reminded of it. Thus,

e.g., I had recently reminded a very esteemed friend in most unmistakable terms that he had 'long ago passed

the years of youth,' because before this he once remarked in the most flattering manner, 'I am no longer a

young man.' That my resistance was directed against the second half of the name Castelvetrano is shown by

the fact that the initial sound of the same returned in the substitutive name Caltanisetta."

"That always seemed to me like a pet name of a young woman," admitted the elder.

Somewhat later he added: "The name for Enna was also only a substitutive name. And now it occurs to me

that the name Castrogiovanni, which obtruded itself with the aid of a rationalization, alludes as expressly to

The older man believed that he had thus accounted for his forgetting the name. What the motive was that led

In some cases one must have recourse to all the fineness of psychoanalytic technique in order to explain the

forgetting of a name. Those who wish to read an example of such work I refer to a communication by

I could multiply the examples of nameforgetting and prolong the discussion very much further if I did not

wish to avoid elucidating here almost all the viewpoints which will be considered in later themes. I shall,

however, take the liberty of comprehending in a few sentences the results of the analyses reported here.

The mechanism of forgetting, or rather of losing or temporary forgetting of a name, consists in the

disturbance of the intended reproduction of the name through a strange stream of thought unconscious at the

time. Between the disturbed name and the disturbing complex there exists a connection either from the

beginning or such a connection has been formed perhaps by artificial means through superficial (outer)

The selfreference complex (personal, family or professional) proves to be the most effective of the

A name which by virtue of its many meanings belongs to a number of thought associations (complexes) is

frequently disturbed in its connection to one series of thoughts through a stronger complex belonging to the

To avoid the awakening of pain through memory is one of the objects among the motives of these

In general one may distinguish two principal cases of nameforgetting; when the name itself touches

something unpleasant, or when it is brought into connection with other associations which are influenced by

such effects. So that names can be disturbed on their own account or on account of their nearer or more

A review of these general principles readily convinces us that the temporary forgetting of a name is observed

However, we are far from having described all the peculiarities of this phenomenon. I also wish to call

attention to the fact that nameforgetting is extremely contagious. In a conversation between two persons the

mere mention of having forgotten this or that name by one often suffices to induce the same memory slip in

the other. But whenever the forgetting is induced, the sought for name easily comes to the surface.

There is also a continuous forgetting of names in which whole chains of names are withdrawn from memory.

If in the course of endeavouring to discover an escaped name one finds others with which the latter is

intimately connected, it often happens that these new names also escape. The forgetting thus jumps from one

name to another, as if to demonstrate the existence of a hindrance not to be easily removed.

In a second essay, [1] I was able to demonstrate the purposive nature of our memories in an unexpected field.

I started with the remarkable fact that the earliest recollections of a person often seemed to preserve the

unimportant and accidental, whereas (frequently though not universally !) not a trace is found in the adult

memory of the weighty and affective impressions of this period. As it is known that the memory exercises a

certain selection among the impressions at its disposal, it would seem logical to suppose that this selection

follows entirely different principles in childhood than at the time of intellectual maturity. However, close

investigation points to the fact that such an assumption is superfluous. The indifferent childhood memories

owe their existence to a process of displacement. It be shown by psychoanalysis that in the reproduction they

represent the substitute for other really significant impressions, whose reproduction is hindered by some

resistance they do not owe their existence to their contents, but to an associative relation of contents to

another repressed thought, deserve the title of "concealing memories" which I have designated them.

In the aforementioned essay I only touched upon, but in no way exhausted, the varieties in the relations and

meanings of concealed memories. In the given example fully analysed I particularly emphasized a peculiarity

in temporal relation between the concealing and the contents of the memory concealed by it. The content of

the concealing memory in that example belonged to one of the first of childhood, while the thoughts

represents it which remained practically unconscious, belonged to a later period of the individual question. I

called this form of displacement a retroactive or regressive one. Perhaps more often one finds the reversed

relation that is, an indifferent impression of the most remote period becomes a concealing memory in

consciousness, which simply owes its existence to an association with an earlier experience, against whose

direct reproduction there are resistances. We would call these encroaching or interposing concealing

memories. What most concerns memory lies here chronologically beyond concealing memory. Finally, there

may be a third possible case, namely, the concealing memory may be connected with the impression it

conceals, not only through its contents, just through contiguity of time; this is the contemporaneous, or

How large a portion of the sum total of our memory belongs to the category of concealing memories, and

what part it plays in various neurotic hidden processes, these are problems into the value of which I have

neither inquired nor shall I enter here. I am concerned only with emphasizing the sameness between the

forgetting of proper names with faulty recollection and the formation of concealing memories.

At first sight it would seem that the diversities of both phenomena are far more striking than their exact

analogies. There we deal with proper names, here with complete impressions experienced either in reality or

in thought; there we deal with a manifest failure of the memory function, here with a memory act which

appears strange to us. Again, there we are concerned with a momentary disturbance for the name just

forgotten could have been reproduced correctly a hundred times before, and will be so again from tomorrow

on; here we deal with lasting possesion without a failure, for the indifferent child hood memories seem to be

able to accompany us through a great part of life. In both these cases the riddle seems to be solved in an

entirely different way. There it is the forgetting, while here it is the remembering which excites our scientific

After deeper reflection one realizes that though there is a diversity in the psychic material and in the duration

of time of the two phenomena, yet these are by far outweighed by the conformities between the two. In both

cases we deal with the failure of remember what should be correctly reproduced by memory fails to appear,

and instead something else comes as a substitute. In the case of getting a name there is no lack of memory

function in the form of name substitution. The formation of a concealing memory depends on the forgetting

of other important impressions. In both cases we are reminded by an intellectual feeling of the intervention of

a disturbance, which in each case takes a different form. In the case of forgetting of names we are aware that

the substitutive names are incorrect, in concealing memories we are surprised that we have them at all.

Hence, if psychological analysis demonstrates that the substitutive formation in each case is brought about in

the same manner that is, through displacement of a superficial association we are justified in saying

that the diversities in material, in duration of time, and in the centring of both phenomena serve to enhance

our expectation, that we have discovered something that is important and of general value. This generality

purports that the stopping and straying of the reproducing function indicates more often than we suppose that

there is an intervention of a tendency which favours one memory and at the same time works against another.

The subject of childhood memories appears to me so important and interesting that I would like to devote to

How far back into childhood do our memories reach? I am familiar with some investigations on this question

by V. and C. Henri [2] and Potwin. [3] They assert that such examinations show wide individual variations,

inasmuch as some trace their first reminiscences to the sixth month of life, while others can recall nothing of

their lives before the end of the sixth or even the eighth year. But what connection is there between these

variations in the behaviour of childhood reminiscences, and what signification may be ascribed to them? It

seems that it is not enough to procure the material for this question by simple inquiry, but it must be

subjected to a study in which the person furnishing the information must participate.

I believe we accept too indifferently the fact of infantile amnesia that is, the failure of memory for the first

years of our lives and fail to find in it a strange riddle. We forget of what great intellectual

accomplishments and of what complicated emotions a child of four years is capable. We really ought to

wonder why the memory of later years has, as a rule, retained so little of these psychic processes, especially

as we have every reason for assume that these same forgotten childhood activities have not glided off without

leaving a trace in the development of the person, but that they have left a definite influence for all future time.

Yet in spite of this unparalleled effectiveness were forgotten! This would suggest that there are particularly

formed conditions of memory (in the sense of conscious reproduction) have thus far eluded our knowledge. It

is possible that the forgetting of childhood give us the key to the understanding of amnesias which, according

to our newer studies, lie at the basis of the formation of all neurotic symptoms.

Of these retained childhood reminisces, some appear to us readily comprehensible, while others seem strange

or unintelligible. It is not difficult to correct certain errors in regard to both kinds. If the retained

reminiscences of a person are subjected to an analytic test, it can be readily ascertained that a guarantee for

their correctness does not exist. Some of the memory pictures are surely falsified and incomplete, or

displaced in point of time and place. The assertions of persons examined that their first memories reach back

perhaps to their second year are evidently unreliable. Motives can soon be discovered which explain the

disfigurement and the displacement of these experiences, but they also demonstrate that these memory lapses

are not the result of a mere unreliable memory. Powerful forces from a later period have moulded the

memory capacity of our infantile experiences, and it is probably due to these same forces that the

The recollection of adults, as is known, proceeds through different psychic material. Some recall by means of

visual pictures their memories are of a visual character; other individuals can scarcely reproduce in

memory the most paltry sketch of an experience we call such persons "auditifs" and "moteurs" in contrast to

the to "visuels," terms proposed by Charcot. These differences vanish in dreams; all our dreams are

preponderatingly visual. But this development is also found in the childhood memories; the latter are plastic

and visual, even in those people whose later memory lacks the visual element. The visual memory, therefore

preserves the type of the infantile recollections. Only my earliest childhood memories are visual character;

In these scenes of childhood, whether they prove true or false, one usually sees his childish person both in

contour and dress. This circumstance must excite our wonder, for adults do not see their own persons in their

reflections of later experiences. [4] It is, moreover, against our experiences to assume that the child's attention

during his experiences is centred on himself rather than exclusively on outside impressions. Various sources

force us to assume the socalled earliest childhood recollections are not true memory traces but later

elaborate of the same, elaborations which might have been subjected to the influences of many later psychic

forces. Thus the, "childhood reminiscences" of individuals altogether advance to the signification of

"concealing memories," and thereby form a noteworthy analogy to the childhood remberences as laid down

Whoever has examined mentally a number of persons by the method of psychoanalysis must have gathered in

this work numerous examples of concealing memories of every description. However, owing to the

previously discussed nature of the relations of the childhood reminiscences to later life, it becomes

extraordinarily difficult to report such examples. For, in order to attach the value of the concealing memory to

an infantile reminiscence, it would be often necessary to present the entire lifehistory of the person

concerned. Only seldom is it possible, as in the following good example, to take out from its context and

A twentyfouryearold man preserved the following picture from the fifth year of his life: In the garden of

a summerhouse he sat on a stool next to his aunt, who was engaged in teaching him the alphabet. He found

difficulty in distinguishing the letter m from n, and he begged his aunt to tell him how to tell one from the

other. His aunt called his attention to the fact that the letter m had one whole portion (a stroke) more than the

letter n. There was no reason to dispute the reliability of this childhood recollection; its meaning, however,

was discovered only later, when it showed itself to be the symbolic representation of another boyish

inquisitiveness. For just as he wanted to know the difference between m and n at that time so he concerned

himself later about the difference between boy and girl, and he would have willing that just this aunt should

be his teacher. He also discovered that the difference similar one; that the boy again had one portion more

than the girl, and at the time of this recognition his memory awoke to the responding childish inquisitiveness.

I would like to show by one more example the sense that may be gained by a childhood reminiscence through

analytic work, although it may seem to contain no sense before. In my fortythird year, when I began to

interest myself in what remained in my memory of my own childhood, a scene struck me which for a long

time, as I afterwards believed, had repeatedly come to consciousness, and which through reliable

identification could be traced to a period before the completion of my third year. I saw myself in front of a

chest, the door of which was held open by my halfbrother, twenty years my senior. I stood there demanding

something and screaming; my mother, pretty and slender then suddenly entered the room, as if returning from

In these words I formulated this scene so vividly seen, which, however, furnished no other clue. Whether my

brother wished to open or lock the chest (in the first explanation it was a "cupboard"), why I cried, and what

bearing,the arrival of my mother had, all these questions were dim to me; I was tempted to explain to myself

that it dealt with the memory of a hoax by my older brother, which was interrupted by my mother. Such

misunderstandings of childhood scenes retained in memory are not uncommon; we recall a situation, but it is

not centralized; we do not know on which of the elements to place the psychic accent. Analytic effort led me

to an entirely unexpected solution of the picture. I missed my mother and began to suspect that she was

locked in this cupboard or chest, and therefore demanded that my brother should unlock it. As he obliged me,

and I became convinced that she was not in the chest, I began to cry; this is the moment firmly retained in the

memory, which was directly followed by the appearance of my mother, who appeased my worry and anxiety.

But how did the child get the idea of looking for the absent mother in the chest? Dreams which occurred at

the same time pointed dimly to a nurse, concerning whom other reminiscences were retained; as, for example,

that she conscientiously urged me to deliver to her the small coins which I received as gifts, a detail which in

itself may lay claim to the value of a concealing memory for later things. I then concluded to facilitate for

myself this time the task of interpretation, and asked my now mother about that nurse. I found out all of

things, among others the fact that this shrewd but dishonest person had committed extensive robberies during

the confinement of my mother and that my halfbrother was instrumental bringing her to justice. This

information gave me the key to the from childhood, as through a sort of inspiration. The sudden

disappearance of the nurse was a matter of indifference to me; I had just asked this brother where she was,

probably because I had noticed that he had played a part in disappearance, and he, evasive and witty as he is

to this day, answered that she was "boxed in." I understood this answer in the childish way, but asked no

more, as there was nothing else to be discovered. When my mother left shortly thereafter I suspected that the

naughty brother had treated her in the same way as he did the nurse, and therefore pressed him the chest.

I also understand now why in the translation of the visual childhood scene my mothers slenderness was

accentuated; she must struck me as being newly restored. I am and a half years older than the sister born that

[2] "Enqu�te sur les premiers souvenirs de l'enfance." L'Ann�e psychologique, iii., 1897.

ALTHOUGH the ordinary material of speech of our mothertongue seems to be guarded against forgetting,

its application, however, more often succumbs to another disturbance which is familiar to us as "slips of the

tongue." What we observe in normal persons as slips of the tongue gives the gives same impression as the

first step of the socalled "paraphasias" which manifest themselves under pathologic conditions.

I am in the exceptional position of being about to refer to a previous work on the subject. In the year 1895

Meringer and C. Mayer published a study on Mistakes in Speech and Reading, with whose viewpoints I do

not agree. One of the authors, who is the spokesman in the text, is a philologist actuated by a linguistic

interest to examine the rules governing those slips. He hoped to deduce from these rules the existence "of a

definite psychic mechanism," "whereby the Sounds of a word, of a sentence, and even the words themselves,

would be associated and con nected with one another in a quite peculiar manner" (p. 10).

The authors grouped the examples of speech mistakes collected by them first "accord purely descriptive

viewpoints, such as interchangings (e.g., the Milo of Venus instead of the Venus of Milo), as anticipations

(e.g., the shoes made her sorft . . . the shoes made her feet sore), echoes and post positions, as contaminations

(e.g., "I will soon him home," instead of I will soon go home and I will see him"), and substitutions (e.g., " he

entrusted his money to a "savings crank," instead of "a savings bank.") [1] Besides these principal categories

there are so others of lesser importance (or of lesser significance for our purpose). In this grouping makes no

difference whether the transposition disfigurement, fusion, etc., affects single sounds of the word or syllables,

To explain the various forms of mist speech, Meringer assumes a varied psychic value of phonetics. As soon

as the innervation the first syllable of a word, or the first word of a sentence, the stimulating process

immediately strikes the succeeding sounds, and the following words, and in so far as these innervations are

synchronous they may effect some changes in one another. The stimulus of the psychically intensive sound

"rings" before or continues echoing, and thus disturbs the less important process of innervation. It is

necessary therefore to determine which are the most important sounds of a word. Meringer states: "If one

wishes to know which sound of a word possesses the greatest intensity he should examine himself while

searching for a forgotten word, for example, a name. That which first returns to consciousness invariably had

the greatest intensity prior to the forgetting (p. 160). Thus the most important sounds are the initial sound of

the rootsyllable and the initial sound of the word itself, as well as one or another of the accentuated vowels

Here I cannot help voicing a contradiction. Whether or not the initial sound of the name belongs to the most

important elements of the word, it is surely not true that in the case of the forgetting of the word it first

returns to consciousness; the above rule is therefore of no use. When we observe ourselves during the search

for a forgotten name we are comparatively often forced to express the opinion that it begins with a certain

letter. This conviction proves to be as often unfounded as founded. Indeed, I would even go so far as to assert

that in the majority of cases one reproduces a false initial sound. Also in our example Signorelli the

substitutive name lacked the initial sound, and the principal syllables were lost; on the other hand, the

important pair of syllables elli returned to consciousness in the substitutive name Botticelli.

How little substitutive names respect the sound of the lost names may be learned from following case. One

day I found it impossible to recall the name of the small country whose capital is Monte Carlo. The

substitutive names follows: Piedmont, Albania, Montevideo, Colico. In place of Albania Montenegro soon

appeared and then it struck me that the syllable Mont (pronounced Mon) occurred in all but the last of the

substitutive names. It thus became easy for me to find from the name of Prince Albert the forgotten name

Monaco. Colico practically imitates the syllabic sequence and rhythm of the forgotten name.

If we admit the conjecture that a mechanism similar to that pointed out in the forgetting names may also play

a part in the phenomena speechblunders, we are then led to a better founded judgment of cases of

speechblunders. The speech disturbance which manifests a speechblunder may in the first place be caused

by the influence of another component of same speech that is, through a foresound or echo, or through

another meaning within the sentence or context which differs from that the speaker wishes to utter. In the

second place, however, the disturbance could be brought about analogously to the process in the case

Signorelli, through influences outside this word, sentence or context, from elements which we did not intend

to express, and of whose incitement we became conscious only through the disturbance. In both modes of

origin of the mistake in speech the common element lies in the simultaneity of the stimulus, while the

differentiating elements lie in the arrangement within or without the same sentence or context.

The difference does not at first appear as wide as when it is taken into consideration in certain conclusions

drawn from the symptomatology of speechmistakes. It is clear, however, that only in the first case is there a

prospect of drawing conclusions from the manifestations of speechblunders concerning a mechanism which

connects together sounds and words for the reciprocal influence of their articulation; that is, conclusions such

as the philologist hopes to gain from the study of speechblunders. In the case of disturbance through

influence outside of the same sentence or context, it would before all be a question of becoming acquainted

with the disturbing elements, and then the question would arise whether the mechanism of this disturbance

We cannot maintain that Meringer and Mayer have overlooked the possibility of speech dis turbance

through "complicated psychic influences," that is, through elements outside of the same word or sentence or

the same sequence of words. Indeed, they must have observed that the theory of the psychic variation of

sounds applies, strictly speaking, only to the explanation of disturbances as well as to foresounds and

sounds. Where the word disturbances cannot reduced to sound disturbances, as, for example, the substitutions

and contaminations of words they, too, have without hesitation sought the cause of the mistake in speech

outside of intended context, and proved this state of affairs by means of fitting examples. [2] According to the

author's own understanding it is some similarity between a certain word in the intended sentence and some

other not intended, which allows the latter to assert itself in consciousness by causing a disfigurement, a

Now, in my work on the Interpretation of Dreams I have shown the part played by process of condensation in

the origin of the called manifest contents of the dream from latent thoughts of the dream. Any similarity of

objects or of wordpresentations between elements of the unconscious material is taken as a cause for the

formation of a third, which is a com posite or compromise formation. This element represents both

components in the dream content, and in view of this origin it is frequently endowed with numerous

contradictory individual determinants. The formation of solutions and contaminations in speechmistakes is,

therefore, the beginning of that work of condensation which we find taking a most active part in the

In a small essay destined for the general reader, [3] Meringer advanced a theory of very practical significance

for certain cases of interchanging of words, especially for such cases where one word is substituted by

another of opposite meaning. He says: "We may still recall the manner in which the President of the Austrian

House of Deputies opened the session some time ago: ' Honoured Sirs! I announce the presence of so and so

many gentlemen, and therefore declare the session as "closed" ' ! " The general merriment first attracted his

attention and he corrected his mistake. In the present case the probable explanation is that the President

wished himself in a position to close this session, from which he had little good to expect, and the thought

broke through at least partially a frequent manifestation resulting in his use of "closed" in place of

'opened," that is, the opposite of the statement intended. Numerous observations have taught me, however,

that we frequently interchange contrasting words; they are already associated in our speech consciousness;

Still, not in all cases of contrast substitution it so simple as in the example of the President as to appear

plausible that the speechmistake occurs merely as a contradiction which arises in the inner thought of the

speaker opposing the sentence uttered. We have found the analogous mechanism in the analysis of the

example aliquis; the inner contradiction asserts itself in the form of forgetting a word instead of a substitution

through its opposite. But in order to adjust the difference we may remark that the little word aliquis is

incapable of a contrast similar to "closing" and "opening," and that the word "opening" cannot be subject to

Having been shown by the last examples of Merinzer and May that speech disturbance may be caused

through the influence of foresounds, aftersounds, words from the same sentence that were intended for

expression, as well as through the effect of words outside the sentence intended, the stimulus of which would

otherwise not have been suspected, we shall next wish to discover whether we can definitely separate the two

classes of mistakes in speech, and how we can distinguish the example of the one from a case of the other

But at this stage of the discussion we must also think of the assertions of Wundt, who deals with the

manifestations of speechmistakes in his recent work on the development of language. [4] Psychic

influences, according to Wundt, never lack in these as well as in other phenomena related to them. The

uninhibited stream of sound and word associations stimulated by spoken sounds belongs here in the first

place as a positive determinant. This is supported as a negative factor by the relaxation or suppression of the

influences of the will which inhibit this stream, and by the active attention which is here a function of

volition. Whether that play of association manifests itself in the fact that a coming sound is anticipated or a

preceding sound reproduced, or whether a familiar practised sound becomes intercalated between others, or

finally, whether it manifests itself in the fact that altogether different sounds associatively related to the

spoken sounds act upon these all these questions designate only differences in the direction, and at most in

the play of the occurring associations but not in the general nature of the same. In some cases it may be also

doubtful to which form a certain disturbance may be attributed, or whether it would not be more correct to

refer such disturbance to a concurrence of motives, following the principle of the complication of causes [5]

I consider these observations of Wundt as absolutely justified and very instructive. Perhaps we could

emphasize with even greater firmness than Wundt that the positive factor favouring mistakes in speech (the

uninhibited stream of associations, and its negative, the relaxation of the inhibiting attention) regularly attain

synchronous action, so that both factors only different determinants of the same process. With the relaxation,

or, more unequivocal pressed, through this relaxation, of the uninhibited attention the uninhibited stream of

Among the examples of the mistakes in collected by me I can scarcely find one in I would be obliged to

attribute the speech disturbance simply and solely to what Wundt calls "contact effect of sound." Almost

invariably I discover besides this a disturbing influence something outside of the intended speech. The

disturbing element is either a single unconscious thought, which comes to light through the special blunder,

and can only be brought to consciousness through a searching analysis, or it is a general psychic motive,

(Example a) Seeing my daughter make an unpleasant face while biting into an apple, I wished to quote the

But I began: " The apel . . ." This seems to be a contamination of "ape" and "apple" (compromise formation),

or it may be also conceived as an anticipation of the prepared "apple." The true state of affairs, however, was

this: I began the quotation once before, and made no mistake the first time. I made the mistake only during

the repetition, which was necessary because my daughter, having been distracted from another side, did not

listen to me. This repetition with the added impatience to disburden myself of the sentence I must include in

the motivation of the speechblunder, which represented itself as a function of condensation.

(b) My daughter said, "I wrote to Mrs. Schresinger." The woman's name was Schlesinger. This

speechblunder may depend on the tendency to facilitate articulation. I must state, however, that this mistake

was made by my daughter a few moments after I had said apel, instead of ape. Mistakes in speech are in a

great measure contagious; a similar peculiarity was noticed by Meringer and Mayer in the forgetting of

difficulty of articulation which may serve as an excuse for interchanging of sounds. When her attention was

called to the speechblunder, she promptly replied, "Yes, that happened because you said 'earnesht' instead of

'earnest.' " As a of fact I received her with the remark, "Today we shall be in earnest" (because it was the

last hour before her discharge from treatment), jokingly changed the word into earnesht. In the course of the

hour she repeatedly made in mistakes speech, and I finally observed that it only because she imitated me but

because she had a special reason in her unconscious to linger on the word earnest (Ernst) as a name. [6]

(d) A woman, speaking about a game invented by her children and called by them "the man in the box," said

"the manx in the boc." I could readily understand her mistake. It was while analysing her dream, in which her

husband is depicted as very generous in money matters just the reverse of reality that she made this

speechblunder. The day before she had asked for a new set of furs, which her husband denied her, claiming

that he could not afford to spend so much money. She upbraided him for his stinginess, "for putting away so

much into the strongbox," and mentioned a friend whose husband has not nearly his income, and yet he

presented his wife with a mink coat for her birthday. The mistake is now comprehensible. The word manx

(manks) reduces itself to the "minks" which she longs for, and the box refers to her husband's stinginess.

(e) A similar mechanism is shown in the mistake of another patient whose memory deserted her in the midst

of a longforgotten childish reminiscence. Her memory failed to inform her on what part of the body the

prying and lustful hand of another had touched her. Soon thereafter she Visited one of her friends, with whom

she discussed summer homes. Asked where her cottage in M. was located, she answered, "Near the mountain

(f) Another patient, whom I asked at the end of her visit how her uncle was, answered: "I don't know, I only

The following day she said, "I am really ashamed of myself for having given you yesterday such a stupid

answer. Naturally you must have thought me a very uneducated person always mistakes the meaning of

foreign words I wished to say en passant." We did not know at the time where she got the incorrectly used

foreign words, but during the same session she reproduced a reminiscence as a continuation the theme from

the previous day, in which being caught in flagranti played the principal part. The mistake of the previous day

had therefore anticipated the recollection, which at that had not yet become conscious.

(g) In discussing her summer plans, a patient said, "I shall remain most of the summer in Elberlon." She

noted her mistake, and asked me to analyse it. The associations to Elberton elicited: seashore on the Jersey

coast summer resort vacation travelling. This recalled travelling in Europe with her cousin, a topic

which we had discussed the day before during the analysis of a dream. The dream dealt with her dislike for

this cousin, and she admitted that it was due to the fact that the latter was the favourite of the man whom they

met together while travelling abroad. During the dream analysis she not recall the name of the city in which

they met this man, and I did not make any effort time to bring it to her consciousness, as we were then

engrossed in a totally different problem. When asked to focus her attention again on Elberton and reproduce

her associations, she said, "It brings to mind ElberlawnlawnfieldandElberfield."Elberleld" was the lost

name of the city in Germany. Here the mistake served to bring to consciousness in a concealed manner a

(h) A woman said to me, " If you wish to buy a carpet, go to Merchant (Kaufmann) in Matthew Street

(Mathdusgasse)." I repeated, " Then at Matthew's I mean at Merchant's " It would seem that my

repeating of one name in place of the other was simply the result of distraction. The woman's remark really

did distract me, as she turned my attention to something else much more vital to me than carpet. In Matthew

Street stands the house in which my wife lived as a bride, The entrance to the house was in another street, and

now I noticed that I had forgotten its name and could only recall it through a roundabout method. The name

Matthew, which kept only attention, is thus a substitutive name for the forgotten name of the street. It is more

suitable than the name Merchant, for Matthew is exclusively the name of a person, while Merchant is lot. The

(i) A patient consulted me for the first time, and from her history it became apparent that the cause of her

nervousness was largely happy married life. Without any encouragement she went into details about her

marital troubles. She had not lived with her husband for about six months, and she saw him last at the theatre

when she saw the play Officer 606. I her attention to the mistake, and she immediately corrected herself,

saying that she to say Officer 666 (the name of a recent popular play). I decided to find out the reason for the

mistake, and as the patient came for analytic treatment, I discovered that immediate cause of the rupture

(k) Before calling on me a patient telephone for an appointment, and also wished to be informed about my

consultation fee. He was told that the first consultation was ten dollars; after the examination was over he

again as what he was to pay, and added: " I don't like to owe money to any one, especially to doctors; I prefer

to pay right away." Instead of he said play. His last voluntary remarks and his mistake put me on my guard,

but after a few more uncalledfor remarks he set me at ease by taking money from his pocket. He counted

four paper dollars and was very chagrined and surprised because he had no more money with him, and

promised to send me a cheque for the balance. I was sure that his mistake betrayed him, that he was only

playing with me, but there was nothing to be done. At the end of a few weeks I sent him a bill for the balance,

and the letter was returned to me by the postoffice authorities marked "Not found."

(l) Miss X. spoke very warmly of Mr. Y., which was rather strange, as before this she had always expressed

her indifference, not to say her contempt, for him. On being asked about this sudden change of heart she said:

"I really never had anything against him; he was always nice to me, but I never gave him the chance to

cultivate my acquaintance." She said "cuptivate." This neologism was a contamination of cultivate and

(m) An illustration of the mechanisms of contamination and condensation will be found in the following

lapsus lingu�. Speaking of Miss Z., Miss W. depicted her as a very "straitlaced" person who was not given to

levities, etc. Miss X. thereupon remarked: "Yes, that is a very characteristic description, she always appealed

to me as very 'straicetbrazed.' " Here the mistake resolved itself into straitlaced and brazenlaced, which

(n) I shall quote a number of example a paper by my colleague, Dr. W. Stekel, which appeared in the Berlin

"An unpleasant trick of my unpleasant thoughts was revealed by the following example: To begin with, I may

state that in my capacity as a physician I never consider my remuneration: but always keep in view the

patient's interest only: this goes without saying. I was visiting a patient who was convalescing from a serious

illness. We had passed through hard days and nights. I was happy to find her improved, and I portrayed to her

the pleasures of a sojourn in Abbazia, concluding with: 'If, as I hope, you will not soon leave your bed.' This

obviously came from an unconscious selfish motive, to be able to continue treating wealthy patient, a wish

which is entirely foreign to my waking consciousness, and which I would reject with indignation."

(o) Another example (Dr. W. Stekel): My wife engaged a French governess for the afternoons, and later,

coming to a satisfactory agreement, wished to retain her testimonials. The governess begged to be allowed to

keep them, saying, 'Je cherche encore pour les apr�smidis pardons, pour les avantmidis.' She appar

intended to seek another place which would perhaps offer more profitable arrangements an intention

(p) I was to give a lecture to a woman. Her husband, upon whose request this was done, stood behind the

door listening. At the end of my sermonizing, which had made a visible impression, I said: "Goodbye, sir !"

To the experienced person I thus betrayed the fact that the words were directed towards the husband; that I

(q) Dr. Stekel reports about himself that he had under treatment at the same time two patients from Triest,

each of whom he always addressed incorrectly. "Good morning, Mr. Peloni!" he would say to Askoli, and to

Peloni, " Good morning, Mr. Askoli !" He was at first inclined to attribute no deeper motive to this mistake,

but to explain it through a number of similarities in both persons. However, he easily convinced himself that

here the interchange of names bespoke a sort of boast that is, he was acquainting each of his Italian

patients with the fact that neither was the only resident of Triest who came to Vienna in search of his medical

(r) Two women stopped in front of a drugstore, and one said to her companion, "If you will wait a few

moments I'll soon be back," but she said movements instead. She was on her way to buy some castoria for her

(s) Mr. L., who is fonder of being called on than of calling, spoke to me through the telephone from a nearby

summer resort. He wanted to know when I would pay him a visit. I reminded him that it was his turn to visit

me, and called his attention to the fact that, as was the happy possessor of an automobile would be easier for

him to call on me. (We were at different summer resorts, separated about one halfhour's railway trip.) He

gladly promised to call, and asked: "How about Labour Day (September 1st), will it be convenient for you?

"When I answered affirmatively, he said, "Very well, then, put me down for Election Day" (November). His

mistake was quite plain. He likes to visit me, but it was inconvenient to travel so far. November we would

(t) A friend described to me a nervous patient, and wished to know whether I could benefit him. I remarked:

"I believe that in time I can remove all his symptoms by psychoanalysis because it is a durable case" wishing

(u) I repeatedly addressed my patient as Mrs. Smith, her married daughter's name, when her real name is Mrs.

James. My attention having been called to it, I soon discovered that I had another patient of the same name

who refused to pay for the treatment. Mrs. Smith was also my patient and paid her bills promptly.

(v) A lapsus lingu� sometimes stands for a particular characteristic. A young woman, who is the domineering

spirit in her home, said of her ailing husband that he had consulted the doctor about a wholesome diet for

himself and then added: "The doctor said that diet has nothing to do with his ailments, and that he can eat and

(w) I cannot omit this excellent and instructive example, although, according to my authority, it is about

twenty years old. A lady once expressed herself in society the very words show that they were uttered

with fervour and under the pressure of a great many secret emotions: "Yes, a woman must be pretty if she is

to please the men. A man is much better off. As long as he has five straight limbs, he needs no more !"

This example affords us a good insight into the intimate mechanisms of a mistake in speech by means of

condensation and contamination (cf. p. 72). It is quite obvious that we have here a fusion of two similar

Or the term "straight" may be the common element of the two intended expressions:

It may also be assumed that both modes of expression viz., those of the five senses and those of the

straight five have cooperated to introduce into the sentence about the straight limbs first a number and

then the mysterious five instead of the simple four. But this fusion surely would not have succeeded if it had

not expressed good sense in the form resulting from the mistake; if it had not expressed a cynical truth which,

Finally, we shall not hesitate to call attention to the fact that the woman's saying, following wording, could

just as well be an excellent witticism as a jocose speechblunder. It is simply a question whether she uttered

these words with conscious or unconscious intention. The behaviour of the speaker in this case certainly

(x) Owing to similarity of material, I add here another case of speechblunder, the interpretation of which

requires less skill. A professor of anatomy strove to explain the nostril, which, as is known, is a very difficult

anatomical structure. To his question whether his audience grasped his ideas he received an affirmative reply.

The professor, known selfesteem, thereupon remarked: "I can hardly believe this, for the number of people

who understand the nostril, even in a city of millions like Vienna, can be counted on a finger pardon me, I

(y) I am indebted to Dr. Alf. Robitsek, of Vienna, for calling my attention to two speechblunders from an

Brant�me (15271614), Vies des Dames galantries, Discours second: " Si ayje cogneu une tr�s belle et

honneste dame de par le monde, qui, devisant avec un honneste gentilhomme de la cour des affaires de la

guerre durant ces civiles, elle luy dit: 'J'ay ouy dire que le roy a faiet rompre tous les c de ce pays l�.' Elle

vouloit dire le ponts. Pensez que, venant de coucher d'avec son mary, ou songeant � son amant, elle avoit

encor ce nom frais en la bouche; et le gentilhomme s'en eschauffer en amours d'elle pour ce mot.

"Une autre dame que j'ai cogneue, entretenant une autre grand dame plus qu'elle, et luy louant et exaltant ses

beautez, elle luy dit apr�s : 'Non, madame, ce que je vous en dis, ce n'est point pour vous adult�rer; voulant

dire adulater, comme elle le rhabilla ainsi : pensez qu'elle songeoit � adult�rer."

In the psychotherapeutic procedure which I employ in the solution and removal of neurotic symptoms, I am

often confronted with the task of discovering from the accidental utterances and fancies of the patient the

thought contents, which, though striving for concealment, nevertheless intentionally betray themselves. In

doing this the mistakes often perform the most valuable, service, as I can show through most convincing and

For example, patients speak of an aunt and later, without noting the mistake, call her "my mother, or

designate a husband as a "brother." In this way they attract my attention to the fact that they have "identified"

these person with each other, that they have placed them same category, which for their emotional life

signifies the recurrence of the same type. Or, a young man of twenty years presents himself during my office

hours with these words: "I am the father of N. N., whom you have treated pardon me, I mean the brother;

why, he is four years older than I." I understand though this mistake that he wishes to express that, like the

brother, he, too, is ill through the fault the father; like his brother, he wishes to be cured, but that the father is

the one most need of treatment. At other times an unusual arrangement of words, or a forced expression is

sufficient to disclose in the speech of the patient the participation of a repressed thought having a different

Hence, in coarse as well as in finer speech disturbances, which may, nevertheless, be sumed as "

speechblunders," I find that it is not the not the contact effects of the thoughts outside the intended speech,

which determine the origin of the speechblunder, and also suffice to explain the newly formed, mistakes in

speech. I do not doubt the laws whereby the sounds produce changes upon one another; but they alone do not

appear to me sufficiently forcible to mar the correct execution of speech. In those cases which I have studied

and investigated more closely they merely represent the preformed mechanism, which is conveniently

utilized by a more remote psychic motive. The latter does not, however, form a part of the sphere of influence

of these sound relations. In a large number of substitutions caused by mistakes in talking there is an entire

absence of such phonetic laws. In this respect I am in full accord with Wundt, who likewise assumes that the

conditions underlying speechblunders are complex and go far beyond the contact effect of the sounds.

If I accept as certain "these more remote psychic influences," following Wundt's expression, there is still

nothing to detain me from conceding also that in accelerated speech, with a certain amount of diverted

attention, the causes of speechblunder may be easily limited to the definite law of Meringer and Mayer.

However, in a number of examples gathered by these authors a more complicated solution is apparent.

In some forms of speechblunders we may assume that the disturbing factor is the of striking against obscene

words and meanings. The purposive disfigurement and distortion of words and phrases, which is so popular

with vulgar persons, aims at nothing else but the employing of a harmless motive as a reminder of the

obscene, and this sport is so frequent that it would not be at all remarkable if appeared unintentionally and

I trust that the readers will not depreciate the value of these interpretations, for which there no proof, and of

these examples which I have myself collected and explained by means of analysis. But if secretly I still

cherish the expectation that even the apparently simple of speechblunder will be traced to a disturbance

caused by a halfrepressed idea cuts the intended context, I am tempted to it noteworthy observation of

Meringer. This author asserts that it is remarkable that nobody wishes to admit having made a mistake in

speaking. There are many intelligent and honest people who are offended if we tell them that they made a

mistake in speaking. I would not risk making this assertion as general as Meringer, using the term "nobody."

But the emotional trace which clings to the demonstration of the mistake, which manifestly belongs to the

nature of shame, has its significance. It may be classed with the anger displayed at the inability to recall a

forgotten name, and with the surprise at the tenaciousness of an apparently indifferent memory, and it

invariably points to the participation of a motive in the formation of the disturbance.

The distorting of names amounts to an insult when done intentionally, and could have the same significance

in a whole series of cases where it appears as unintentional speechblunders. The person who, according to

Mayer's report, once said "Freuder" instead of "Freud," because shortly before he pronounced the name

"Breuer (p. 38), and who at another time spoke of the FreuerBreudian" method (p. 28), was certainly not

particularly enthusiastic over this method. Later, under the mistakes in writing, I shall report a case of name

As a disturbing element in these cases there is an intermingling of a criticism which be omitted, because at

Or it may be just the reverse; the subsituted name, or the adoption of the strange name, signifies an

appreciation of the same. The identification which is brought about by mistake is equivalent to a recognition

which for the moment must remain in the background. An experience of this kind from his schooldays is

"While in my first year at college I obliged to recite a poem before the whole class. It was the first experience

of the kind in my life, but I was well prepared. As soon as I began my recitation I was dismayed at being

disturbed by an outburst of laughter. The professor later explained to me this strange reception. I started by

giving the title 'From the Distance,' which was correct, but instead of giving the name of the real author, I

mentioned my own. The name of the poet is Alexander Pet�fi. The identity of the first name with my own

favoured the interchange of names, but the real reason was surely the fact that I identified myself at that time

with the celebrated poethero. Even consciously I entertained for him a love and respect which verged on

A similar identification was reported to me concerning a young physician who timidly and reverently

introduced himself to the celebrated Virchow with the following words: " I am Dr. Virchow." The surprised

professor turned to him and asked, "Is your name also Virchow" I do not know how the ambitious young man

justified his speechblunder, whether he thought of the charming excuse that he imagined himself so

insignificant next to this big man that his own name slipped from him, or whether I had the courage to admit

that he hoped that he too would some day be as great a man Virchow, and that the professor should therefore,

not treat him in too disparaging a manner. One or both of these thoughts may have put young man in an

Owing to very personal motives I must it undecided whether a similar interpretation may also apply in the

case to be cited. At the International Congress in Amsterdam, in 1907 my theories of hysteria were the

subject of a lively discussion. One of my most violent opponents, in his diatribe against me, repeatedly made

mistakes in speech in such a manner that he put himself in my place and spoke name. He said, for example,

"Breuer and I, as is well known, have demonstrated," etc., when he wished to say "Breuer and Freud." The

name of this opponent does not show the slightest sound similarity to my own. From this example, as well as

from other cases of interchanging names in speechblunders, we are reminded of the fact that the

speechblunder can fully forego the facility afforded to it through similar sounds, and can achieve its purpose

In other and more significant cases it is a selfcriticism, an internal contradiction against one's own utterance,

which causes the speechblunder, and even forces a contrasting substitution for the one intended. We then

observe with surprise how the wording of an assertion removes the purpose of the same, and how the error in

speech lays bare the inner dishonesty. Here the lapsus lingu� becomes a mimicking form of expression,

often, indeed, for the expression of what one does not wish to say. It is, thus a means of selfbetrayal.

Brill, relates: "I had recently been consulted by a woman who showed many paranoid trends, and as she had

no relatives who could cooperate with me, I urged her to enter a State hospital as a voluntary patient. She

was quite willing to do so, but on the following day she told me that her friends with whom she leased an

apartment objected to her going to a hospital as it would interfere with their plans, and so on. I lost patience

and said: 'There is no use listening to your friends who know nothing about your mental condition; you are

quite incompetent to take care of your own affairs.' I meant to say 'competent.' Here the lapus lingu�

Favoured by chance the speech material often gives origin to examples of speechblunders which serve to

bring about an overwhelming revelation or a full comic effect, as shown by the following examples reported

"A wealthy but not very generous host invited his friends for an evening dance. Everything went well until

about 11:30 P.M., when was an intermission, presumably for supper. To the great disappointment of most of

the guests there was no supper; instead, they were regaled with thin sandwiches and lemonade. As it was

close to Election day the conversation centered on the different candidates; and as the discussion grew

warmer, one of the guests, an ardent admirer of the Progressive Party candidate, marked to the host: 'You

may say what please about Teddy, but there is one thing can always be relied upon; he always gives you a

square meal,' wishing to say square deal. The assembled guests burst into a roar of laughter to the great

"While writing a prescription for a woman who was especially weighed down by the financial burden of the

treatment, I was interested to hear her say suddenly: 'Please do not give me big bills, because I cannot

The following example illustrates a rather serious case of selfbetrayal through a mistake in talking. Some

accessory details justify, full reproduction as first printed by Dr. A. A. Brill. [9]

"While walking one night with Dr. Frink we accidentally met a colleague, Dr. P., whom I had not seen for

years, and of whose private life I knew nothing. We were naturally very pleased to meet again, and on my

invitation he accompanied us to a caf�, where we spent about two hours in pleasant conversation. To my

question as to whether he was married he gave a negative answer, and added, 'Why should a man like me

"On leaving the cafe, he suddenly turned to me and said: 'I should like to know what you would do in a case

like this: I know a nurse who was named as corespondent in a divorce case. The wife sued the husband for

divorce and named her as corespondent, and he got the divorce.' I interrupted him, saying, 'You mean she

got the divorce.' He immediately corrected himself, saying, 'Yes, she got the divorce,' and continued to tell

how the excitement of the trial had affected this nurse to such an extent that she became nervous and took to

"As soon as I had corrected his mistake I asked him to explain it, but, as is usually the case he was surprised

at my question. He wanted to know whether a person had no right, to make mistakes in talking. I explained to

him that there is a reason for every mistake and that if he had not told me that he was unmarried, I would say

that he was the hero of the divorce case in question, and that the mistake showed that he wished he had

obtained the divorce instead of his wife, so as not to obliged to pay alimony and to be permitted marry again

"He stoutly denied my interpretation, but his emotional agitation, followed by loud laughter only

strengthened my suspicions. To my appeal that he should tell the truth 'for science' sake he said, 'Unless you

wish me to lie you must believe that I was never married, and hence your psychoanalytic interpretation is all

wrong.' He, however, added that it was dangerous to be with a person who paid attention to such little things.

"Both Dr. Frink and I were convinced that my interpretation of his lapsus lingu� was correct, and I decided

to corroborate or disprove it by further investigation. The next day I found a neighbour and old friend of Dr.

P., who confirmed my interpretation in every particular. The divorce was granted to Dr. P.'s wife a few weeks

before, and a nurse was named as corespondent. A few weeks later I met Dr. P., and he told me that he was

A father who was devoid of all patriotic feeling and desirous of educating his children to be just as free from

this superfluous sentiment, reproached his sons for participating in a patriotic demonstration, and rejected

their reference to a similar behaviour of their uncle with these words: "You are not obliged to imitate him;

why, he is an idiot." The astonished features of the children at their father's unusual tone aroused him to the

fact that he had made a mistake, and he remarked apologetically, "Of course I wished to say patriot." When

such a speechblunder occurs in a serious squabble and reverses the intended meaning of one of the

disputants, it at once puts him at a disadvantage with his adversary a disadvantage which the latter seldom

This clearly shows that although people are unwilling to accept the theory of my conception and are not

inclined to forego the convenience that is connected with the tolerance of a faulty action, they neverthelesss

interpret speechblunders and other faulty acts in a manner similar to the one presented in this book. The

merriment and derision which are sure to be evoked at the decisive moment through such linguistic mistakes

speak conclusively against the generally accepted convention that such a speechblunder is a lapsus ling�

and, psychologically of no importance. It was no less a man than the German Chancellor, Prince Blow, who

endeavoured to save the situation through such a protest when the wording of his defence of his Emperor

"Concerning the present, the new epoch of Emperor Wilhelm II, I can only repeat what I said a year ago, that

it would be unfair and unjust to speak of a coterie of responsible advisers around our Emperor (loud calls,

'Irresponsible !) to speak of irresponsible advisers. Pardon the lapsus lingu�" (hilarity).

A nice example of speechblunder, which aims not so much at the betrayal of the speaker as at the

enlightenment of the listener outside the scene, is found in Wallenstein (Piccolomini, Act I, Scene 5), and

shows us that the poet who here uses this means is well versed in the mechanism and intent of

speechblunders. In the preceding scene Max Piccolomini was passionately in favour of the ducal party, and

was enthusiastic over the blessings of the peace which became known to him in the course of a journey while

accompanying Wallenstein's daughter to the encampment. He leaves his father and the Court ambassador,

QUESTENBERG. Woe unto us! Are matters thus? Friend, should we allow him to go there with this false

OCTAVIO (rousing himself from profound meditation). He has already opened mine, and I see more than

OCTAVIO. Come! I must immediately follow the unlucky trail, must see with my own eyes come

The slight speechblunder to her in place of to him is meant to betray to us the fact that the father has seen

through his son's motive for espousing the other cause, while the courtier complains that "he speaks to him

Another example wherein a poet makes use of a speechblunder was discovered by Otto Rank in

Shakespeare. I quote Rank's report from the Zentralblatt f�r Psychoanalyse, I. 3." A poetic speechblunder,

very delicately motivated and technically remarkably utilized, which, like the one pointed out by Freud in

Wallenstein (Zur Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens, 2nd Edition, p. 48), not only shows that poets knew

the mechanism and sense of this error, but also presupposes an understanding of it on the part of the hearer,

can be found in Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice (Act Ill, Scene 2). By the will of her fathers Portia was

bound to select a husband through a lottery. She escaped all her distasteful suitors by lucky chance. When she

finally found in Bassanio the suitor after her own heart, she had cause to fear lest he, too, should draw the

unlucky lottery.' In the scene she would to tell him that even if he chose the wrong casket, he might,

nevertheless, be sure of love. But she is hampered by her vow. In this mental conflict the poet puts these

One half of me is yours, the other half yours Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours And so all

"Just the very thing which she would like to hint to him gently, because really she should keep it from him,

namely, that even before the choice she is wholly his that she loves him, the poet, with admirable

psychologic sensitiveness, allows to come to the surface in the speechblunder. It is through this artifice that

he manages to allay the intolerable uncertainty of the lover as well as the like tension of the hearer concerning

The interest merited by the confirmation of our conception of speechblunders through the great poets

justifies the citation of a third example which was reported by Dr. E. Jones [10]

"Our great novelist, George Meredith, in his masterpiece, The Egoist, shows an even finer understanding of

the mechanism. The plot of the novel is, shortly, as follows: Sir Willoughby Patterne, an aristocrat greatly

admired by his circle, becomes engaged to a Miss Constantia Durham. She discovers in him an intense

egoism, which he skilfully conceals from the world, and to escape the marriage she elopes with a Captain

Oxford. Some years later Patterne becomes engaged to a Miss Middleton, and most of the book is taken up

with a detailed description of the conflict that arises in her mind on also discovering his egotism. External

circumstances and her conception of honour hold her to her pledge, while he becomes more and more

distasteful in her eyes. She partly confided in his cousin and secretary, Vernon Whitford, the man whom she

"In the soliloquy Clara speaks as follows: 'If some noble gentleman could see me as I am and not disdain to

aid me! Oh I to be caught out of this prison of thorns and brambles I cannot tear my own way out. I am a

coward. A beckoning of a finger would change me, I believe. I could fly bleeding and through hootings to a

comrade. . . . Constantia met a soldier. Perhaps she prayed and her prayer was answered. She did ill. But, oh,

how I love her for it! His name was Harry Oxford. . . . She did not waver, she cut the links, she signed herself

over. Oh, brave girl, what do you think of me? But I have no Harry Whitford; I am alone. . . .' The sudden

consciousness that she had put another name for Oxford struck her a buffet, drowning her in crimson.

"The fact that both men's names end in 'ford' evidently renders the confounding of them more easy, and

would by many be regarded as an adequate cause for this, but the real underlying motive for it is plainly

indicated by the author. In another passage the same lapsus occurs, and is followed by the hesitation and

change of subject that one is familiar with in psychoanalysis when a halfconscious complex is touched. Sir

Willoughby patronizingly says of Whitford: 'False alarm. The resolution to do anything unaccustomed is

quite beyond poor old Vernon.' Clara replies: 'But if Mr. Oxford Whitford . . . your swans, coming sailing

up the lake; how beautiful they look when they are indignant! I was going to ask you, surely men witnessing

a marked admiration for some one else will naturally be discouraged? ' Sir Willoughby stiffened with sudden

In still another passage Clara, by another lapsus, betrays her secret wish that she was on a more intimate

footing with Vernon Whitford. Speaking to a boy friend, she says, 'Tell Mr. Vernon tell Mr. Whitford.' "

The conception of speechblunders here defended can be readily verified in the smallest details. I have been

able to demonstrate repeatedly that the most insignificant and most natural cases of speechblunders have

their good sense, and admit of the same interpretation as the more striking examples. A patient who, contrary

to my wishes but with firm personal motives, decided upon a short trip to Budapest justified herself by saying

that she was for only three days, but she blundered said for only three weeks. She, betrayed her secret feeling

that, to spite me, she preferred spending three weeks to three days in that society which I considered unfit for

One evening, wishing to excuse myself for not having called for my wife at the theatre, I said: "I was at the

theatre at ten minutes after ten." I was corrected: "You meant to say ten o'clock." Naturally I wanted to say

before ten. After ten would certainly be no excuse. I had been told that the theatre programme read, "Finished

before ten o'clock." We arrived at the theatre I found the foyer dark and the theatre empty. Evidently the

performance was over earlier and my wife did not wait me. When I looked at the clock it still wanted five

minutes to ten. I determined to make my case more favourable at home, and say that it was ten minutes to ten.

Unfortunately, the speechblunder spoiled the intent and laid bare my dishonesty, in which I acknowledged

This leads us to those speech disturbances which can no longer be described as speechblunders, for they do

not injure the individual word., but affect the rhythm and execution of the entire speech, as, for example, the

stammering and stuttering of embarrassment. But here, as in the former cases, it is the inner conflict that is

betrayed to us through the disturbance in speech. I really do not believe that any one will make mistakes in

talking in an audience with His Majesty, in a serious love declaration, or in defending one's name and honour

before a jury; in short, people make no mistakes where they are all there as the saying goes. Even in

criticizing an author's style we are allowed and accustomed to follow the principle of explanation, which we

cannot miss in the origin of a single speechblunder. A clear and unequivocal manner of writing shows us

that here the author is in harmony with himself, but where we find a forced and involved expression aiming at

more target, as appropriately expressed, we can thereby recognize the participation of an unfinished and

complicated thought, or we can hear through it the stifle voice of the author's selfcriticism. [11]

[6] It turned out that she was under the influence conscious thoughts concerning pregnancy and prevention of

conception. With the words "shut up like a knife," which she uttered consciously as a complaint, she meant to

describe the position of the child in the womb. The word "earnest" in my remark recalled to her the name (S.

Ernst) of the wellknown Vienna business firm in Ka�rthner Strasse, which used to advertise the sale of

[7] Similar mistakes dealing with Officer 666 were reported to me by other psychoanalysts.

[8] It may be observed that aristocrats in particular very frequently distort the names of the physicians they

consult, from which we may conclude that inwardly they slight them, in spite of the politeness with which

they are wont to greet them. I shall cite here some excellent observations concerning the forgetting of names

from the works of Professor E. Jones, of Toronto : Papers on Psychoanalysis, chap. iii. p. 49 :

"Few people can avoid feeling a twinge of resentment when they find that their name has been forgotten,

particularly if it is by some one with whom they had hoped or expected it would be remembered. They

instinctively realize if they had made a greater impression on the person's mind he would certainly have

remembered them again, for the name is an integral part of the personality. Similarly, few things are more

flattering to most people than to find themselves addressed by name by a great person where they could

hardly have anticipated it. Napoleon, like most leaders of men, was a master of this art. In the midst of the

disastrous campaign of France in 1814, he gave a proof of his memory in this direction. When in a town near

Craonne, he recollected that he had met the mayor, De Bussy, over twenty years ago in the La F�re Regiment.

The delighted De Bussy at once threw himself into his service with extraordinary zeal. Conversely, there is

no surer of affronting some one than by pretending to forget his name; the insinuation is thus conveyed that

the person is so unimportant in our eyes that we cannot be bothered to remember his name. This device is

often exploited in literature. In Turgentev's Smoke (p. 255) the following passage occurs: " 'So you still find

Baden entertaining, M'sieur Litvinov.' Ratmirov always uttered Litvinov's surname with hesitation, every

time, as though he had forgotten it, and could not at once recall it. In this way, as well as by the lofty flourish

of his hat in saluting him, he meant to insult his pride." The same author, in his Fathers and Children (p. 107),

writes : "The Governor invited Kirsanov and Bazarov to his ball, and within a few minutes invited them a

second time, regarding them as brothers, and calling them Kisarov." Here the forgetting that he had spoken to

them, the mistake in the names, and the inability to distinguish between the two young men, constitute a

culmination of disparagement. Falsification of a name has the same signification as forgetting it; it is only a

[9] Zentralb. f. Psychoanalyse, ii., Jahrg. I. Cf. also Brill's Psychanalysis: Its Theories and Practical

That the same viewpoints and observation should hold true for mistakes in reading and writing as for lapses

in speech is not at all surprising when one remembers the inner relation of these functions. I shall here

confine myself to the reports of several carefully analysed examples and shall make no attempt to include all

A. LAPSES IN READING. (a) While looking over a number of the Leipziger Illustrierten, which I was

holding obliquely, I read as the title of the frontpage picture, "A Wedding Celebration in the Odyssey."

Astonished and with my attention aroused, I moved the page into the proper position only to read correctly,

"A Wedding Celebration in the Ostsee (Baltic Sea)." How did this senseless mistake in reading come about?

Immediately my thoughts turned to a book by Ruth, Experimental Investigations of "Music Phantoms," etc.,

with which I had recently been much occupied, as it closely touched the psychologic problems that are of

interest to me. The author promised a work in the near future to be called Analysis and Principles of Dream

Phenomena. No wonder that I, having just published an Interpretation of Dreams, awaited the appearance of

this book with the most intense interest. In Ruth's work concerning music phantoms I found an announcement

in the beginning of the table of contents of the detailed inductive proof that the old Hellenic myths and

traditions originated mainly from slumber and music phantoms, from dream phenomena and from deliria.

Thereupon I had immediately plunged into the text in order to find out whether he was also aware that the

scene where Odysseus appears before Nausicaa was based upon the common dream of nakedness. One of my

friends called my attention to the clever passage in G. Keller's Gr�nem Heinrich, which explains this episode

in the Odyssey as an objective representation of the dream of the mariner straying far from home. I added to

(b) A woman who is very anxious to get children always reads storks instead of stocks.

informed her that poor Mrs. Wm. H. was seriously ill and was given up by the doctors. There must have been

a false ring to the words in which I expressed my sympathy, as my wife grew suspicious, asked to see the

letter, and expressed her opinion that it could not read as stated by me, because no one calls the wife by the

husband's name. Moreover, the correspondent was well acquainted with the Christian name of the woman

concerned. I defended my assertion obstinately and referred to the customary visitingcards, on which a

woman designates herself by the Christian name of her husband. I was finally compelled to take up the letter,

and, as a matter of fact, we read therein "Poor W. M." What is more, I had even overlooked "Poor Dr. W. M."

My mistake in reading signified a spasmodic effort, so to speak, to turn the sad news from the man towards

the woman. The title between the adjective and the name did not go well with my claim that the woman must

have been meant. That is why it was omitted in the reading. The motive for this falsifying was not that the

woman was less an object of my sympathy than the man, but the fate of this poor man had excited my fears

(d) Both irritating and laughable is a lapse in reading to which I am frequently subject when I walk through

the streets of a strange city during my vacation. I then read antiquities on every shop sign that shows the

slightest resemblance to the word; this displays the questing spirit of the collector.

(e) In his important work[2] Bleuler relates: "While reading I once had the intellectual feeling of seeing my

name two lines below. To my astonishment I found only the words blood corpuscles. Of the many thousands

of lapses in reading in the peripheral as well as in the central field of vision that I have analysed, this was the

most striking case. Whenever I imagined that I saw my name, the word that induced this illusion usually

showed a greater resemblance to my name than the word bloodcorpuscles. In most cases all the letters of my

name had to be close together before I could commit such an error. In this case, however, I could readily

explain the delusion of reference and the illusion. What I had just read was the end of a statement concerning

a form of bad style in scientific works, a tendency from which I am not entirely free."

B. LAPSES IN WRITING. (a) On a sheet of paper containing principally short daily notes of business

interest, I found, to my surprise, the incorrect date, "Thursday, October 20th," bracketed under the correct

date of the month of September. It was not difficult to explain this anticipation as the expression of a wish. A

few days before I had returned fresh from my vacation and felt ready for any amount of professional work,

but as yet there were few patients. On my arrival I had found a letter from a patient announcing her arrival on

the 20th of October. As I wrote the same date in September I may certainly have thought "X. ought to be here

already; what a pity about that whole month!" and with this thought I pushed the current date a month ahead.

In this case the disturbing thought can scarcely be called unpleasant; therefore after noticing this lapse in

writing, I immediately knew the solution. In the fall of the following year I experienced an entirely analogous

and similarly motivated lapse in writing. E. Jones has made a study of similar cases, and found that most

(b) I received the proof sheets of my contribution to the annual report on neurology and psychiatry, and I was

naturally obliged to review with special care the names of authors, which, because of the many different

nationalities represented, offer the greatest difficulties to the compositor. As a matter of fact, I found some

strangesounding names still in need of correction; but, oddly enough, the compositor had corrected one

single name in my manuscript, and with very good reason. I had written Buckrhard, which the compositor

guessed to be Burckhard. I had praised the treatise of this obstetrician entitled The Influence of Birth on the

Origin of Infantile Paralysis, and I was not conscious of the least enmity toward him. But an author in

Vienna, who had angered me by an adverse criticism of my Traumdeutung, bears the same name. It was as if

in writing the name Burckhard, meaning the obstetrician, a wicked thought concerning the other B. had

obtruded itself. The twisting of the name, as I have already stated in regard to lapses in speech, often signifies

as an erroneously carried out action. I intended to withdraw from the postal savings bank the sum of 300

crowns, which I wished to send to an absent relative to enable him to take treatment at a wateringplace. I

noted that my account was 4,380 crowns, and I decided to bring it down to the round sum of 4,000 crowns,

which was not to be touched in the near future. After making out the regular cheque I suddenly noticed that I

had written not 380 crowns, as I had intended, but exactly 438 crowns. I was frightened at the

untrustworthiness of my action. I soon realized that my fear was groundless, as I had not grown poorer than I

was before. But I had to reflect for quite a while in order to discover what influence diverted me from my

First I got on a wrong track: I subtracted 380 from 438, but after that I did not know what to do with the

difference. Finally an idea occurred to me which showed me the true connection. 438 is exactly 10 per cent.

of the entire account of 4,380 crowns! But the bookseller, too, gives a 10 per cent. discount! I recalled that a

few days before I had selected several books, in which I was no longer interested, in order to offer them to the

bookseller for 300 crowns. He thought the price demanded too high, but promised to give me a final answer

within the next few days. If he should accept my first offer he would replace the exact sum that I was to

spend on the sufferer. There is no doubt that I was sorry about this expenditure. The emotion at the realization

of my mistakes can be more easily understood as a fear of growing poor through such outlays. But both the

sorrow over this expense and the fear of poverty connected with it were entirely foreign to my consciousness;

I did not regret this expense when I promised the sum, and would have laughed at the idea of any such

underlying motive. I should probably not have assigned such feelings to myself had not my psychoanalytic

practice made me quite familiar with the repressed elements of psychic life, and if I had not had a dream a

(d) Although it is usually difficult to find the person responsible for printers' errors, the psychologic

mechanisms underlying them are the same as in other mistakes. Typographical errors also well demonstrate

the fact that people are not at all indifferent to such trivialities as "mistakes," and, judging by the indignant

reactions of the parties concerned, one is forced to the conclusion that mistakes are not treated by the public

at large as mere accidents. This state of affairs is very well summed up in the following editorial from the

New York Times of April 14, 1913. Not the least interesting are the comments of the keenwitted editor,

"A BLUNDER TRULY UNFORTUNATE. "Typographical errors come only too frequently from even the

bestregulated newspaper presses. They are always humiliating, often a cause of anger, and occasionally

dangerous, but now and then they are distinctly amusing. This latter quality they are most apt to have when

they are made in the office of a journalistic neighbour, a fact that probably explains why we can read with

smiling composure an elaborate editorial apology which appears in the Hartford Courant.

"Its able political commentator tried the other day to say that, unfortunately for Connecticut, 'J. H. is no

longer a Member of Congress. Printer and proofreader combined to deprive the adverb of its negative

particle.' At least, the able political commentator so declares, and we wouldn't question his veracity for the

world; but sorrowful experience has taught most of us that it's safer to get that sort of editorial disclaimer of

responsibility into print before looking up the copy, and perhaps just perhaps the worldenlightener,

who knows that he wrote unfortunate, because that is what he intended to write, didn't rashly chance the

"Be that as it may, the meaning of the sentence was cruelly changed, and a friend was grieved or offended.

Not so long ago a more astonishing error than this one crept into a book review of ours a very solemn and

scientific book. It consisted of the substitution of the word 'caribou' for the word 'carbon' in a paragraph

dealing with the chemical composition of the stars. In that case the writer's fierce selfexculpation is at least

highly plausible, as it seems hardly possible that he wrote 'caribou' when he intended to write 'carbon,' but

(e) I cite the following case contributed by Dr. W. Stekel, for the authenticity of which I can vouch: "An

almost unbelievable example of miswriting and misreading occurred in the editing of a widely circulated

weekly. It concerned an article of defence and vindication which was written with much warmth and great

pathos. The editorinchief of the paper read the article, while the author himself naturally read it from the

manuscript and proofsheets more than once. Everybody was satisfied, when the printer's reader suddenly

noticed a slight error which had escaped the attention of all. There it was, plainly enough: 'Our readers will

bear witness to the fact that we have always acted in a selfish manner for the good of the community.' It is

quite evident that it was meant to read unselfish. The real thoughts, however, broke through the pathetic

(f) The following example of misprinting is taken from a Western gazette: The teacher was giving an

instruction paper on mathematical methods, and spoke of a plan "for the instruction of youth that might be

(g) Even the Bible did not escape misprints. Thus we have the "Wicked Bible," so called from the fact that

the negative was left out of the seventh commandment. This authorized edition of the Bible was published in

London in 1631, and it is said that the printer had to pay a fine of two thousand pounds for the omission.

Another biblical misprint dates back to the year 1580, and is found in the Bible of the famous library of

Wolfenbuttel, in Hesse. In the passage in Genesis where God tells Eve that Adam shall be her master and

shall rule over her, the German translation is "Und er soll dein Herr sein." The word Herr (master) was

substituted by Narr, which means fool. Newly discovered evidence seems to show that the error was a

conscious machination of the printer's suffragette wife, who refused to be ruled by her husband.

(h) Dr. Ernest Jones reports the following case concerning A. A. Brill: "Although by custom almost a

teetotaler, he yielded to a friend's importunity one evening, in order to avoid offending him, and took a little

wine. During the next morning an exacerbation of an eyestrain headache gave him cause to regret this slight

indulgence, and his reflection on the subject found expression in the following slip of the pen. Having

occasion to write the name of a girl mentioned by a patient, he wrote not Ethel but Ethyl.[4] It happened that

the girl in question was rather too fond of drink, and in Dr. Brill's mood at the time this characteristic of hers

(i) A woman wrote to her sister, felicitating her on the occasion of taking possession of a new and spacious

residence. A friend who was present noticed that the writer put the wrong address on the letter, and what was

still more remarkable was the fact that she did not address it to the previous residence, but to one long ago

given up, but which her sister had occupied when she first married. When the friend called her attention to it

the writer remarked, "You are right; but what in the world made me do this?" to which her friend replied:

"Perhaps you begrudge her the nice big apartment into which she has just moved because you yourself are

cramped for space, and for that reason you put her back into her first residence, where she was no better off

than yourself." "Of course I begrudge her the new apartment," she honestly admitted. As an afterthought she

(k) Ernest Jones reports the following example given to him by Dr. A. A. Brill. In a letter to Dr. Brill a

patient tried to attribute his nervousness to business worries and excitement during the cotton crisis. He went

on to say: "My trouble is all due to that d frigid wave; there isn't even any seed to be obtained for new

crops." He referred to a cold wave which had destroyed the cotton crops, but instead of writing "wave" he

wrote "wife." In the bottom of his heart he entertained reproaches against his wife on account of her marital

frigidity and childlessness, and he was not far from the cognition that the enforced abstinence played no little

Omissions in writing are naturally explained in the same manner as mistakes in writing. A remarkable

example of omission which is of historic importance was reported by Dr. B. Dattner.[6] In one of the legal

articles dealing with the financial obligations of both countries, which was drawn up in the year 1867 during

the readjustment between Austria and Hungary, the word "effective" was accidentally omitted in the

Hungarian translation. Dattner thinks it probable that the unconscious desire of the Hungarian lawmakers to

grant Austria the least possible advantages had something to do with this omission.

Another example of omission is the following related by Brill: "A prospective patient, who had corresponded

with me relative to treatment, finally wrote for an appointment for a certain day. Instead of keeping his

appointment he sent regrets which began as follows: 'Owing to foreseen circumstances I am unable to keep

my appointment.' He naturally meant to write unforeseen. He finally came to me months later, and in the

course of the analysis I discovered that my suspicions at the time were justified; there were no unforeseen

circumstances to prevent his coming at that time; he was advised not to come to me. The unconscious does

Wundt gives a most noteworthy proof for the easily ascertained fact that we more easily make mistakes in

writing than in speaking (loc. cit., p. 374). He states: "In the course of normal conversation the inhibiting

function of the will is constantly directed toward bringing into harmony the course of ideation with the

movement of articulation. If the articulation following the ideas becomes retarded through mechanical causes,

Observation of the determinants which favour lapses in reading gives rise to doubt, which I do not like to

leave unmentioned, because I am of the opinion that it may become the start ingpoint of a fruitful

investigation. It is a familiar fact that in reading aloud the attention of the reader often wanders from the text

and is directed toward his own thoughts. The results of this deviation of attention are often such that when

interrupted and questioned he cannot even state what he had read. In other words, he has read automatically,

although the reading was nearly always correct. I do not think that such conditions favour any noticeable

increase in the mistakes. We are accustomed to assume concerning a whole series of functions that they are

most precisely performed when done automatically, with scarcely any conscious attention. This argues that

the conditions governing attention in mistakes in speaking, writing, and reading must be differently

determined than assumed by Wundt (cessation or diminution of attention). The examples which we have

subjected to analysis have really not given us the right to take for granted a quantitative diminution of

attention. We found what is probably not exactly the same thing, a disturbance of the attention through a

[2] Bleuler, Affektivit�t Suggestibilit�t, Paranoia, p. 121, Halle. Marhold, 1906.

"BURGHER. No matter; his name is Cinna; tear the name out of his heart and let him go."

If any one should be inclined to overrate the state of our present knowledge of mental life, all that would be

needed to force him to assume a modest attitude would be to remind him of the function of memory. No

psychologic theory has yet been able to account for the connection between the fundamental phenomena of

remembering and forgetting; indeed, even the complete analysis of that which one can actually observe has as

yet scarcely been grasped. Today forgetting has perhaps grown more puzzling than remembering, especially

since we have learned from the study of dreams and pathologic states that even what for a long time we

To be sure, we are in possession of some viewpoints which we hope will receive general recognition. Thus

we assume that forgetting is a spontaneous process to which we may ascribe a certain temporal discharge. We

emphasize the fact that, just as among the units of every impression or experience, in forgetting, too, a certain

selection takes place among the existing impressions. We are acquainted with some of the conditions that

underlie the tenaciousness of memory and the awakening of that which would otherwise remain forgotten.

Nevertheless, we can observe in innumerable cases of daily life how unreliable and unsatisfactory our

knowledge of the mechanism is. Thus we may listen to two persons exchanging reminiscences concerning the

same outward impressions, say of a journey that they have taken together some time before. What remains

most firmly in the memory of the one is often forgotten by the other, as if it had never occurred, even when

there is not the slightest reason to assume that this impression is of greater psychic importance for the one

than for the other. A great many of those factors which determine the selective power of memory are

With the purpose of adding some small contribution to the knowledge of the conditions of forgetting, I was

wont to subject to a psychologic analysis those cases in which forgetting concerned me personally. As a rule I

took up only a certain group of those cases, namely, those in which the forgetting astonished me, because, in

my opinion, I should have remem bered the experience in question. I wish further to remark that I am

generally not inclined to forgetfulness (of things experienced, not of things learned), and that for a short

period of my youth I was able to perform extraordinary feats of memory. When I was a schoolboy it was

quite natural for me to be able to repeat from memory the page of a book which I had read; and shortly before

I entered the University I could write down practically verbatim the popular lectures on scientific subjects

directly after hearing them. In the tension before the final medical examination I must have made use of the

remnant of this ability, for in certain subjects I gave the examiners apparently automatic answers, which

proved to be exact reproductions of the textbook, which I had skimmed through but once and then in

Since those days I have steadily lost control over my memory; of late, however, I became convinced that with

the aid of a certain artifice I can recall far more than I would otherwise credit myself with remembering. For

example, when, during my office hours, a patient states that I have seen him before and I cannot recall either

the fact or the time, then I help myself by guessing that is, I allow a number of years, beginning from the

present time, to come to my mind quickly. Whenever this could be controlled by records of definite

information from the patient, it was always shown that in over ten years[1] I have seldom missed it by more

than six months. The same thing happens when I meet a casual acquaintance and, from politeness, inquire

about his small child. When he tells of its progress I try to fancy how old the child now is. I control my

estimate by the information given by the father, and at most I make a mistake of a month, and in older

children of three months. I cannot state, however, what basis I have for this estimate. Of late I have grown so

bold that I always offer my estimate spontaneously, and still run no risk of grieving the father by displaying

my ignorance in regard to his offspring. Thus I extend my conscious memory by invoking my larger

I shall report some striking examples of forgetting which for the most part I have observed in myself. I

distinguish forgetting of impressions and experiences, that is, the forgetting of knowledge, from forgetting of

resolutions, that is, the forgetting of omissions. The uniform result of the entire series of observations I can

formulate as follows: The forgetting in all cases is proved to be founded on a motive of displeasure.

(a) During the summer my wife once made me very angry, although the cause in itself was trifling. We sat in

a restaurant opposite a gentleman from Vienna whom I knew, and who had cause to know me, and whose

acquaintance I had reasons for not wishing to renew. My wife, who had heard nothing to the disrepute of the

man opposite her, showed by her actions that she was listening to his conversation with his neighbours, for

from time to time she asked me questions which took up the thread of their discussion. I became impatient

and finally irritated. A few weeks later I complained to a relative about this behaviour on the part of my wife,

but I was not able to recall even a single word of the conversation of the gentleman in the case. As I am

usually rather resentful and cannot forget a single incident of an episode that has annoyed me, my amnesia in

A short time ago I had a similar experience. I wished to make merry with an intimate friend over a statement

made by my wife only a few hours earlier, but I found myself hindered by the noteworthy fact that I had

entirely forgotten the statement. I had first to beg my wife to recall it to me. It is easy to understand that my

forgetting in this case may be analogous to the typical disturbance of judgment which dominates us when it

(b) To oblige a woman who was a stranger in Vienna I had undertaken to procure a small iron safe for the

preservation of documents and money. When I offered my services, the image of an establishment in the

heart of the city where I was sure I had seen such safes floated before me with extraordinary visual vividness.

To be sure, I could not recall the name of the street, but I felt certain that I would discover the store in a walk

through the city, for my memory told me that I had passed it countless times. To my chagrin I could not find

this establishment with the safes, though I walked through the inner part of the city in every direction. I

concluded that the only thing left to do was to search through a business directory, and if that failed, to try to

identify the establishment in a second round of the city. It did not, however, require so much effort; among

the addresses in the directory I found one which immediately presented itself as that which had been

forgotten. It was true that I had passed the show window countless times, each time, however, when I had

gone to visit the M. family, who have lived a great many years in this identical building. After this intimate

friendship had turned to an absolute estrangement, I had taken care to avoid the neighbourhood as well as the

house, though without ever thinking of the reason for my action. In my walk through the city searching for

the safe in the show window I had traversed every street in the neighbourhood but the right one, and I had

The motive of displeasure which was at the bottom of my disorientation is thus comprehensible. But the

mechanism of forgetting is no longer so simple as in the former example. Here my aversion naturally does

not extend to the vendor of safes, but to another person, concerning whom I wish to know nothing, and later

transfers itself from the latter to this incident where it brings about the forgetting. Similarly, in the case of

Burckhard mentioned above, the grudge against the one brought about the error in writing the name of the

other. The similarity of names which here established a connection between two essentially different streams

of thought was accomplished in the showcase window instance by the contiguity of space and the inseparable

environment. Moreover, this latter case was more closely knit together, for money played a great part in the

him I was engrossed in the thought that I must already have been in the building occupied by the firm. It

seemed as if I used to see their signboard in a lower story while my professional visit was taking me to a

higher story. I could not recall, however, which house it was nor when I had called there. Although the entire

matter was indifferent and of no consequence, I nevertheless occupied myself with it, and at last learned in

the usual roundabout way, by collecting the thoughts that occurred to me in this connection, that one story

above the floor occupied by the firm B. and R. was the Pension Fischer, where I had frequently visited

patients. Then I remembered the building which sheltered both the company and the pension.

I was still puzzled, however, as to the motive that entered into play in this forgetting. I found nothing

disagreeable in my memory concerning the firm itself or the Pension Fischer, or the patients living there. I

was also aware that it could not deal with anything very painful, otherwise I hardly would have been

successful in tracing the thing forgotten in a roundabout way without resorting to external aid, as happened in

the preceding example. Finally it occurred to me that a little before, while starting on my way to a new

patient, a gentleman whom I had difficulty in recalling greeted me in the street. Some months previously I

had seen this man in an apparently serious condition and had made the diagnosis of general paresis, but later I

had learned of his recovery, consequently my judgment had been incorrect. Was it not possible that we had in

this case a remission, which one usually finds in dementia paralytica? In that contingency my diagnosis

would still be justified. The influence emanating from this meeting caused me to forget the neighbourhood of

the B. and R. Company, and my interest to discover the thing forgotten was transferred from this case of

disputed diagnosis. But the associative connection in this loose inner relation was effected by means of a

similarity of names: the man who recovered, contrary to expectation, was also an officer of a large company

that recommends patients to me. And the physician with whom I had seen the supposed paretic bore the name

(d) Mislaying a thing really has the same significance as forgetting where we have placed it. Like most

people delving in pamphlets and books, I am well oriented about my desk, and can produce what I want with

one lunge. What appears to others as disorder has become for me perfect order. Why, then, did I mislay a

catalogue which was sent to me not long ago so that it could not be found? What is more, it had been my

intention to order a book which I found announced therein, entitled Ueber die Sprache, because it was written

by an author whose spirited, vivacious style I like, whose insight into psychology and whose knowledge of

the cultural world I have learned to appreciate. I believe that was just why I mislaid the catalogue. It was my

habit to lend the books of this author among my friends for their enlightenment, and a few days before, on

returning one, somebody had said: "His style reminds me altogether of yours, and his way of thinking is

identical." The speaker did not know what he was stirring up with this remark. Years ago, when I was

younger and in greater need of forming alliances, I was told practically the same thing by an older colleague,

to whom I had recommended the writings of a familiar medical author. To put it in his words, "It is absolutely

your style and manner." I was so influenced by these remarks that I wrote a letter to this author with the

object of bringing about a closer relation, but a rather cool answer put me back "in my place." Perhaps still

earlier discouraging experiences conceal themselves behind this last one, for I did not find the mislaid

catalogue. Through this premonition I was actually prevented from ordering the advertised book, although the

disappearance of the catalogue formed no real hindrance, as I remembered well both the name of the book

(e) Another case of mislaying merits our interest on account of the conditions under which the mislaid object

was rediscovered. A younger man narrates as follows: "Several years ago there were some misunderstandings

between me and my wife. I found her too cold, and though I fully appreciated her excellent qualities, we lived

together without evincing any tenderness for each other. One day on her return from a walk she gave me a

book which she had bought because she thought it would interest me. I thanked her for this mark of

'attention,' promised to read the book, put it away, and did not find it again. So months passed, during which I

"About six months later my beloved mother, who was not living with us, became ill. My wife left home to

nurse her motherinlaw. The patient's condition became serious and gave my wife the opportunity to show

the best side of herself. One evening I returned home full of enthusiasm over what my wife had

accomplished, and felt very grateful to her. I stepped to my desk and, without definite intention but with the

certainty of a somnambulist, I opened a certain drawer, and in the very top of it I found the longmissing,

The following example of "misplacing" belongs to a type well known to every psychoanalyst. I must add that

the patient who experienced this misplacing has himself found the solution of it.

This patient, whose psychoanalytic treatment had to be interrupted through the summer vacation when he was

in a state of resistance and illhealth, put away his keys in the evening in their usual place, or so he thought.

He then remembered that he wished to take some things from his desk, where he also had put the money

which he needed on the journey. He was to depart the next day, which was the last day of treatment and the

He began a thorough and systematic search through his small apartment. He became more and more excited

over it, but his search was unsuccessful. As he recognized this "misplacement" as a symptomatic act that

is, as being intentional he aroused his servant in order to continue his search with the help of an "

unprejudiced" person. After another hour he gave up the search and feared that he had lost the keys. The next

morning he ordered new keys from the desk factory, which were hurriedly made for him. Two acquaintances

who had been with him in a cab even recalled hearing something fall to the ground as he stepped out of the

cab, and he was therefore convinced that the keys had slipped from his pocket. They were found lying

between a thick book and a thin pamphlet, the latter a work of one of my pupils, which he wished to take

along as reading matter for his vacation; and they were so skilfully placed that no one would have supposed

that they were there. He himself was unable to replace the keys in such a position as to render them invisible.

The unconscious skill with which an object is misplaced on account of secret but strong motives reminds one

of "somnambulistic sureness." The motive was naturally illhumour over the interruption of the treatment

and the secret rage over the fact that he had to pay such a high fee when he felt so ill.

(g) Brill relates:[2] "A man was urged by his wife to attend a social function in which he really took no

interest. Yielding to his wife's entreaties, he began to take his dresssuit from the trunk when he suddenly

thought of shaving. After accomplishing this he returned to the trunk and found it locked. Despite a long,

earnest search the key could not be found. A locksmith could not be found on Sunday evening, so that the

couple had to send their regrets. On having the trunk opened the next morning the lost key was found within.

The husband had absentmindedly dropped the key into the trunk and sprung the lock. He assured me that this

was wholly unintentional and unconscious, but we know that he did not wish to go to this social affair. The

Ernest Jones noticed in himself that he was in the habit of mislaying his pipe whenever he suffered from the

effects of oversmoking. The pipe was then found in some unusual place where it did not belong and which it

If one looks over the cases of mislaying it will be difficult to assume that mislaying is anything other than the

(h) In the summer of 1901 I once remarked to a friend with whom I was then actively engaged in exchanging

ideas on scientific questions: "These neurotic problems can be solved only if we take the position of

absolutely accepting an original bisexuality in every individual." To which he replied: "I told you that two

and a half years ago while we were taking an evening walk in Br. At that time you wouldn't listen to it."

It is truly painful to be thus requested to renounce one's originality. I could neither recall such a conversation

nor my friend's revelation. One of us must be mistaken; and according to the principle of the question cui

prodest? I must be the one. Indeed, in the course of the following weeks everything came back to me just as

my friend had recalled it. I myself remembered that at that time I gave the answer: "I have not yet got so far,

and I do not care to discuss it." But since this incident I have grown more tolerant when I miss any mention

of my name in medical literature in connection with ideas for which I deserve credit.

It is scarcely accidental that the numerous examples of forgetting which have been collected without any

selection should require for their solution the introduction of such painful themes as exposing of one's wife; a

friendship that has turned into the opposite; a mistake in medical diagnosis; enmity on account of similar

pursuits, or the borrowing of somebody's ideas. I am rather inclined to believe that every person who will

undertake an inquiry into the motives underlying his forgetting will be able to fill up a similar sample card of

vexatious circumstances. The tendency to forget the disagreeable seems to me to be quite general; the

capacity for it is naturally differently developed in different persons. Certain denials which we encounter in

medical practice can probably be ascribed to forgetting.[3] Our conception of such forgetting confines the

distinction between this and that behaviour to purely psychologic relations, and permits us to see in both

forms of reaction the expression of the same motive. Of the numerous examples of denials of unpleasant

recollection which I have observed in kinsmen of patients, one remains in my memory as especially singular.

A mother telling me of the childhood of her nervous son, now in his puberty, made the statement that, like his

brothers and sisters, he was subject to bedwetting throughout his childhood, a symptom which certainly has

some significance in a history of a neurotic patient. Some weeks later, while seeking information regarding

the treatment, I had occasion to call her attention to signs of a constitutional morbid predisposition in the

young man, and at the same time referred to the bedwetting recounted in the anamnesis. To my surprise she

contested this fact concerning him, denying it as well for the other children, and asked me how I could

possibly know this. Finally I let her know that she herself had told me a short time before what she had thus

One also finds abundant indications which show that even in healthy, not neurotic, persons resistances are

found against the memory of disagreeable impressions and the idea of painful thoughts.[5] But the full

significance of this fact can be estimated only when we enter into the psychology of neurotic persons. One is

forced to make such elementary defensive striving against ideas which can awaken painful feelings, a striving

which can be put side by side only with the flightreflex in painful stimuli, as the main pillar of the

mechanism which carries the hysterical symptoms. One need not offer any objection to the acceptance of

such defensive tendency on the ground that we frequently find it impossible to rid ourselves of painful

memories which cling to us, or to banish such painful emotions as remorse and reproaches of conscience. No

one maintains that this defensive tendency invariably gains the upper hand, that in the play of psychic forces

it may not strike against factors which stir up the contrary feeling for other purposes and bring it about in

As the architectural principle of the psychic apparatus we may conjecture a certain stratification or structure

of instances deposited in strata. And it is quite possible that this defensive tendency belongs to a lower

psychic instance, and is inhibited by higher instances. At all events, it speaks for the existence and force of

this defensive tendency, when we can trace it to processes such as those found in our examples of forgetting.

We see then that something is forgotten for its own sake, and where this is not possible the defensive

tendency misses the target and causes something else to be forgotten something less significant, but which

The views here developed, namely, that painful memories merge into motivated forgetting with special ease,

merits application in many spheres where as yet it has found no, or scarcely any, recognition. Thus it seems

to me that it has not yet been strongly enough emphasized in the estimation of testimony taken in court,[6]

where the putting of a witness under oath obviously leads us to place too great a trust on the purifying

influence of his psychic play of forces. It is universally admitted that in the origin of the traditions and

folklore of a people care must be taken to eliminate from memory such a motive as would be painful to the

national feeling. Perhaps on closer investigation it may be possible to form a perfect analogy between the

manner of development of national traditions and infantile reminiscences of the individual. The great Darwin

has formulated a "golden rule" for the scientific worker from his insight into this painmotive of

Almost exactly as in the forgetting of names, faulty recollections can also appear in the forgetting of

impressions, and when finding credence they may be designated as delusions of memory. The memory

disturbance in pathologic cases (in paranoia it actually plays the r�le of a constituting factor in the formation

of delusions) has brought to light an extensive literature in which there is no reference whatever to its being

motivated. As this theme also belongs to the psychology of the neuroses it goes beyond our present treatment.

Instead, I will give from my own experience a curious example of memory disturbance showing clearly

enough its determination through unconscious repressed material and its connection with this material.

While writing the latter chapters of my volume on the interpretation of dreams, I happened to be in a summer

resort without access to libraries and reference books, so that I was compelled to introduce into the

manuscript all kinds of references and citations from memory. These I naturally reserved for future

correction. In the chapter on daydreams I thought of the distinguished figure of the poor bookkeeper in

Alphonse Daudet's Nabab, through whom the author probably described his own daydreams. I imagined that

I distinctly remembered one fantasy of this man, whom I called Mr. Jocelyn, which he hatched while walking

the streets of Paris, and I began to reproduce it from memory. This fantasy described how Mr. Jocelyn boldly

hurled himself at a runaway horse and brought it to a standstill; how the carriage door opened and a great

personage stepped from the coup�, pressed Mr. Jocelyn's hand and said: "You are my saviour I owe my

I assured myself that casual inaccuracies in the rendition of this fantasy could readily be corrected at home on

consulting the book. But when I perused Nabab in order to compare it with my manuscript, I found to my

very great shame and consternation that there was nothing to suggest such a dream by Mr. Jocelyn; indeed,

This second error then furnished the key for the solution of the first mistake, the faulty reminiscence. Joyeux,

of which Joyeuse is the feminine form, was the only possible word which would translate my own name

Freud into French. Whence, therefore, came this falsely remembered fantasy which I had attributed to

Daudet? It could only be a product of my own, a daydream which I myself had spun, and which did not

become conscious, or which was once conscious and had since been absolutely forgotten. Perhaps I invented

it myself in Paris, where frequently enough I walked the streets alone, and full of longing for a helper and

protector, until Charcot took me into his circle. I had often met the author of Nabab in Charcot's house. But

the provoking part of it all is the fact that there is scarcely anything to which I am so hostile as the thought of

being some one's prot�g�. What we see of this sort of thing in our country spoils all desire for it, and my

character is little suited to the r�le of a protected child. I have always entertained an immense desire to "be

the strong man myself." And it had to happen that I should be reminded of such a, to be sure, never fulfilled,

daydream! Besides, this incident is a good example of how the restraint relation to one's ego, which breaks

forth triumphantly in paranoia, disturbs and entangles us in the objective grasp of things.

Another case of faulty recollection which can be satisfactorily explained resembles the fausse reconnaissance

to be discussed later. I related to one of my patients, an ambitious and very capable man, that a young student

had recently gained admittance into the circle of my pupils by means of an interesting work, Der K�nstler,

Versuch einer Sexualpsychologie. When, a year and a quarter later, this work lay before me in print, my

patient maintained that he remembered with certainty having read somewhere, perhaps in a bookseller's

advertisement, the announcement of the same book even before I first mentioned it to him. He remembered

that this announcement came to his mind at that time, and he ascertained besides that the author had changed

the title, that it no longer read "Versuch" but "Ans�tze zu einer Sexualpsychologie."

Careful inquiry of the author and comparison of all dates showed conclusively that my patient was trying to

recall the impossible. No notice of this work had appeared anywhere before its publication, certainly not a

year and a quarter before it went to print. However, I neglected to seek a solution for this false recollection

until the same man brought about an equally valuable renewal of it. He thought that he had recently noticed a

work on "agoraphobia" in the show window of a bookshop, and as he was now looking for it in all available

catalogues I was able to explain to him why his effort must remain fruitless. The work on agoraphobia existed

only in his fantasy as an unconscious resolution to write such a book himself. His ambition to emulate that

young man, and through such a scientific work to become one of my pupils, had led him to the first as well as

to the second false recollection. He also recalled later that the bookseller's announcement which had

occasioned his false reminiscence dealt with a work entitled Genesis, Das Gesetz der Zeugung ("Genesis, The

Law of Generation"). But the change in the title as mentioned by him was really instigated by me; I recalled

that I myself have perpetrated the same inaccuracy in the repetition of the title by saying "Ans�tze" in place

No other group of phenomena is better qualified to demonstrate the thesis that lack of attention does not in

itself suffice to explain faulty acts as the forgetting of intentions. An intention is an impulse for an action

which has already found approbation, but whose execution is postponed for a suitable occasion. Now, in the

interval thus created sufficient change may take place in the motive to prevent the intention from coming to

We are naturally not in the habit of explaining the forgetting of intentions which we daily experience in every

possible situation as being due to a recent change in the adjustment of motives. We generally leave it

unexplained, or we seek a psychologic explanation in the assumption that at the time of execution the

required attention for the action, which was an indispensable condition for the occurrence of the intention,

and was then at the disposal of the same action, no longer exists. Observation of our normal behaviour

towards intentions urges us to reject this tentative explanation as arbitrary. If I resolve in the morning to carry

out a certain intention in the evening, I may be reminded of it several times in the course of the day, but it is

not at all necessary that it should become conscious throughout the day. As the time for its execution

approaches it suddenly occurs to me and induces me to make the necessary preparation for the intended

action. If I go walking and take a letter with me to be posted, it is not at all necessary that I, as a normal not

nervous individual, should carry it in my hand and continually look for a letterbox. As a matter of fact I am

accustomed to put it in my pocket and give my thoughts free rein on my way, feeling confident that the first

letterbox will attract my attention and cause me to put my hand in my pocket and draw out the letter.

This normal behaviour in a formed intention corresponds perfectly with the experimentally produced conduct

of persons who are under a socalled "posthypnotic suggestion" to perform something after a certain

time.[8] We are accustomed to describe the phenomenon in the following manner: the suggested intention

slumbers in the person concerned until the time for its execution approaches. Then it awakes and excites the

In two positions of life even the layman is cognizant of the fact that forgetting referring to intended purposes

can in no wise claim consideration as an elementary phenomenon no further reducible, but realizes that it

ultimately depends on unadmitted motives. I refer to affairs of love and military service. A lover who is late

at the appointed place will vainly tell his sweetheart that unfortunately he has entirely forgotten their

rendezvous. She will not hesitate to answer him: "A year ago you would not have forgotten. Evidently you no

longer care for me" Even if he should grasp the above cited psychologic explanation, and should wish to

excuse his forgetting on the plea of important business, he would only elicit the answer from the woman, who

has become as keensighted as the physician in the psychoanalytic treatment, "How remarkable that such

business disturb ances did not occur before!" Of course the woman does not wish to deny the possibility of

forgetting; but she believes, and not without reason, that practically the same inference of a certain

unwillingness may be drawn from the unintentional forgetting as from a conscious subterfuge.

Similarly, in military service no distinction is recognized between an omission resulting from forgetting and

one in consequence of intentional neglect. And rightly so. The soldier dares forget nothing that military

service demands of him. If he forgets in spite of this, even when he is acquainted with the demands, then it is

due to the fact that the motives which urge the fulfilment of the military exactions are opposed by contrary

motives. Thus the one year's volunteer[9] who at inspection pleads forgetting as an excuse for not having

polished his buttons is sure to be punished. But this punishment is small in comparison to the one he courts if

he admits to his superiors that the motive for his negligence is because "this miserable menial service is

altogether disgusting to me." Owing to this saving of punishment for economic reasons, as it were, he makes

The service of women (as well as the military service of the State) demands that nothing relating to that

service be subject to forgetting. Thus it but suggests that forgetting is permissible in unimportant matters, but

in weighty matters its occurrence is an indication that one wishes to treat weighty matters as unimportant:

that is, that their importance is disputed.[10] The viewpoint of psychic validity is in fact not to be contested

here. No person forgets to carry out actions that seem important to himself without exposing himself to the

suspicion of being a sufferer from mental weakness. Our investigations therefore can extend only to the

forgetting of more or less secondary intentions, for no intention do we deem absolutely indifferent, otherwise

As in the preceding functional disturbances, I have collected the cases of neglect through forgetting which I

have observed in myself, and endeavoured to explain them. I have found that they could invariably be traced

to some interference of unknown and unadmitted motives or, as may be said, they were due to a counter

will. In a number of these cases I found myself in a position similar to that of being in some distasteful

service: I was under a constraint to which I had not entirely resigned myself, so that I showed my protest in

the form of forgetting. This accounts for the fact that I am particularly prone to forget to send congratulations

on such occasions as birthdays, jubilees, wedding celebrations, and promotions to higher rank. I continually

make new resolutions, but I am more than ever convinced that I shall not succeed. I am now on the point of

giving it up altogether, and to admit consciously the striving motives. In a period of transition, I told a friend

who asked me to send a congratulatory telegram for him, at a certain time when I was to send one myself,

that I would probably forget both. It was not surprising that the prophecy came true. It is undoubtedly due to

painful experiences in life that I am unable to manifest sympathy where this manifestation must necessarily

appear exaggerated, for the small amount of my feeling does not admit the corresponding expression. Since I

have learned that I often mistook the pretended sympathy of others for real, I am in rebellion against the

conventions of expressing sympathy, the social expediency of which I naturally acknowledge. Condolences

in cases of death are excepted from this double treatment; once I determine to send them I do not neglect

them. Where my emotional participation has nothing more to do with social duty, its expression is never

Cases in which we forget to carry out actions which we have promised to do as a favour for others can

similarly be explained as antagonism to conventional duty and as an unfavourable inward opinion. Here it

regularly proves correct, inasmuch as the only person appealed to believes in the excusing power of

forgetfulness, while the one requesting the favour has no doubt about the right answer: he has no interest in

There are some who are noted as generally forgetful, and we excuse their lapses in the same manner as we

excuse those who are shortsighted when they do not greet us in the street.[11] Such persons forget all small

promises which they have made; they leave unexecuted all orders which they have received; they prove

themselves unreliable in little things; and at the same time demand that we shall not take these slight offences

amiss that is, they do not want us to attribute these failings to personal characteristics but to refer them to

an organic peculiarity.[12] I am not one of these people myself, and have had no opportunity to analyse the

actions of such a person in order to discover from the selection of forgetting the motive underlying the same.

I cannot forego, however, the conjecture per analogiam, that here the motive is an unusual large amount of

unavowed disregard for others which exploits the constitutional factor for its purpose.[13]

In other cases the motives for forgetting are less easy to discover, and when found excite greater

astonishment. Thus, in former years I observed that of a great number of professional calls I only forgot those

that I was to make on patients whom I treated gratis or on colleagues. The mortification caused by this

discovery led me to the habit of noting every morning the calls of the day in a form of resolution. I do not

know if other physicians have come to the same practice by a similar road. Thus we get an idea of what

causes the socalled neurasthenic to make a memorandum of the communications he wishes to make to the

doctor. He apparently lacks confidence in the reproductive capacity of his memory. This is true, but the scene

usually proceeds in this manner. The patient has recounted his various complaints and inquiries at

considerable length. After he has finished he pauses for a moment, then he pulls out the memorandum, and

says apologetically, "I have made some notes because I cannot remember anything." As a rule he finds

nothing new on the memorandum. He repeats each point and answers it himself: "Yes, I have already asked

about that." By means of the memorandum he probably only demonstrates one of his symptoms, the

frequency with which his resolutions are disturbed through the interference of obscure motives.

I am touching, moreover, on an affliction to which even most of my healthy acquaintances are subject, when I

admit that especially in former years I had the habit of easily forgetting for a long time to return borrowed

books, also that it very often happened that I deferred payments through forgetfulness. One morning not long

ago I left the tobaccoshop where I make my daily purchase of cigars without paying. It was a most harmless

omission, as I am known there and could therefore expect to be reminded of my debt the next morning. But

this slight neglect, the attempt to contract a debt, was surely not unconnected with reflections concerning the

budget with which I had occupied myself throughout the preceding day. Even among the socalled

respectable people one can readily demonstrate a double behaviour when it concerns the theme of money and

possession. The primitive greed of the suckling which wishes to seize every object (in order to put it in its

mouth) has generally been only imperfectly subdued through culture and training.[14]

I fear that in all the examples thus far given I have grown quite commonplace. But it can be only a pleasure to

me if I happen upon familiar matters which every one understands, for my main object is to collect everyday

material and utilize it scientifically. I cannot conceive why wisdom, which is, so to speak, the sediment of

everyday experiences, should be denied admission among the acquisitions of knowledge. For it is not the

diversity of objects but the stricter method of verification and the striving for farreaching connections which

We have invariably found that intentions of some importance are forgotten when obscure motives arise to

disturb them. In still less important intentions we find a second mechanism of forgetting. Here a counterwill

becomes transferred to the resolution from something else after an external association has been formed

between the latter and the content of the resolution. The following example reported by Brill illustrates this:

"A patient found that she had suddenly became very negligent in her correspondence. She was naturally

punctual and took pleasure in letterwriting, but for the last few weeks she simply could not bring herself to

write a letter without exerting the greatest amount of effort. The explanation was quite simple. Some weeks

before she had received an important letter calling for a categorical answer. She was undecided what to say,

and therefore did not answer it at all. This indecision in the form of inhibition was unconsciously transferred

Direct counterwill and more remote motivation are found together in the following example of delaying: I

had written a short treatise on the dream for the series Grenzfragen des Nerven und Seelenlebens, in which

I gave an abstract of my book, The Interpretation of Dreams.[15] Bergmann, the publisher, had sent me the

proof sheets and asked for a speedy return of the same as he wished to issue the pamphlet before Christmas. I

corrected the sheets the same night, and placed them on my desk in order to take them to the post office the

next morning. In the morning I forgot all about it, and only thought of it in the afternoon at the sight of the

paper cover on my desk. In the same way I forgot the proofs that evening and the following morning, and

until the afternoon of the second day, when I quickly took them to a letterbox, wondering what might be the

basis of this procrastination. Obviously I did not want to send them off, although I could find no explanation

After posting the letter I entered the shop of my Vienna publisher, who put out my Interpretation of Dreams. I

left a few orders; then, as if impelled by a sudden thought, said, "You undoubtedly know that I have written

the 'Dream' book a second time?" "Ah!" he exclaimed, "then I must ask you to " "Calm yourself," I

interposed; "it is only a short treatise for the L�wenfeldKurella collection." But still he was not satisfied; he

feared that the abstract would hurt the sale of the book. I disagreed with him, and finally asked: "If I had

come to you before, would you have objected to the publication?" "No; under no circumstances," he

Personally I believe I acted within my full rights and did nothing contrary to the general practice; still it

seems certain to me that a thought similar to that entertained by the publisher was the motive for my

This reflection leads back to a former occasion when another publisher raised some difficulties because I was

obliged to take out several pages of the text from an earlier work on cerebral infantile paralysis, and put them

unchanged into a work on the same theme in Nothnagel's handbook. There again the reproach received no

recognition; that time also I had loyally informed my first publisher (the same who published The

However, if this series of recollections is followed back still farther it brings to light a still earlier occasion

relating to a translation from the French, in which I really violated the property rights that should be

considered in a publication. I had added notes to the text without asking the author's permission, and some

years later I had cause to think that the author was dissatisfied with this arbitrary action.

There is a proverb which indicates the popular knowledge that the forgetting of intentions is not accidental. It

Indeed, we sometimes cannot help feeling that no matter what may be said about forgetting and faulty

actions, the whole subject is already known to everybody as something selfevident. It is strange enough that

it is still necessary to push before consciousness such wellknown facts. How often I have heard people

remark: "Please do not ask me to do this, I shall surely forget it." The coming true of this prophecy later is

surely nothing mysterious in itself. He who speaks thus perceives the inner resolution not to carry out the

Much light is thrown, moreover, on the forgetting of resolutions through something which could be

designated as "forming false resolutions." I had once promised a young author to write a review of his short

work, but on account of inner resistances, not unknown to me, I promised him that it would be done the same

evening. I really had serious intentions of doing so, but I had forgotten that I had set aside that evening for the

preparation of an expert testimony that could not be deferred. After I thus recognized my resolution as false, I

[1] In the course of the conference the details of the previous first visit return to consciousness.

[3] If we inquire of a person whether he suffered from luetic infection ten or fifteen years ago, we are only

too apt to forget that psychically the patient has looked upon this disease in an entirely different manner than

on, let us say, an acute attack of rheumatism. In the anamneses which parents give about their neurotic

daughters, it is hardly possible to distinguish with any degree of certainty the portion forgotten from that

hidden, for anything that stands in the way of the girl's future marriage is systematically set aside by the

parents, that is, it becomes repressed. A man who had recently lost his beloved wife from an affection of the

lungs reported to me the following case of misleading the doctor, which can only be explained by the theory

of such forgetting. "As my poor wife's pleuritis had not disappeared after many weeks, Dr. P. was called in

consultation. While taking the history he asked among others the customary questions whether there were any

cases of lung trouble in my wife's family. My wife denied any such cases, and even I myself could not

remember any. While Dr. P. was taking leave the conversation accidentally turned to excursions, and my wife

said: 'Yes, even to Landgersdorf, where my poor brother lies buried, is a long journey.' This brother died

about fifteen years ago, after having suffered for years from tuberculosis. My wife was very fond of him, and

often spoke about him. Indeed, I recall that when her malady was diagnosed as pleurisy she was very worried

and sadly remarked: 'My brother also died of lung trouble.' But the memory was so very repressed that even

after the abovecited conversation about the trip to L. she found no occasion to correct her information

concerning the diseases in her family. I myself was struck by this forgetting at the very moment she began to

talk about Landgersdorf." A perfectly analogous experience is related by Ernest Jones in his work. A

physician whose wife suffered from some obscure abdominal malady remarked to her: "It is comforting to

think that there has been no tuberculosis in your family." She turned to him very astonished and said, " Have

you forgotten that my mother died of tuberculosis, and that my sister recovered from it only after having been

[4] During the days when I was first writing these pages the following almost incredible case of forgetting

happened to me. On the 1st of January I examined my notes so that I could send out my bills. In the month of

June I came across the name M l, and could not recall the person to whom it belonged. My surprise

increased when I observed from my books that I treated the case in a sanatorium, and that for weeks I had

called on the patient daily. A patient treated under such conditions is rarely forgotten by a physician in six

months. I asked myself if it could have been a man a paretic a case without interest? Finally, the note

about the fee received brought to my memory all the knowledge which strove to elude it. M l was a

fourteen yearold girl, the most remarkable case of my latter years, a case which taught me a lesson I am

not likely ever to forget, a case whose upshot gave me many painful hours. The child became afflicted with

an unmistakable hysteria, which quickly and thoroughly improved under my care. After this improvement the

child was taken away from me by the parents. She still complained of abdominal pains which had played the

part in the hysterical symptoms. Two months later she died of sarcoma of the abdominal glands. The hysteria,

to which she was greatly predisposed, took the tumourformation as a provocative agent, and I, fascinated by

the tumultuous but harmless manifestations of hysteria, perhaps overlooked the first sign of the insidious and

[5] A. Pick ("Zur Psychologie des Vergessens bei Geistesund Nervenkranken," Archiv. f.

KriminalAnthropologie u. Kriminalistik, von H. Gross) has recently collected a number of authors who

realize the value of the influence of the affective factors on memory, and who more or less clearly recognize

that a defensive striving against pain can lead to forgetting. But none of us has been able to represent this

phenomenon and its psychologic determination as exhaustively, and at the same time as effectively, as

Nietzsche in one of his aphorisms (Fenseits von Gut und Bosen, ii., Haupstuck 68) : "'I have done that,' says

my Memory. 'I could not have done that,' says my Pride, and remains inexorable. Finally, my Memory

[7] Darwin on forgetting. In Darwin's autobiography one finds the following passage that does equal credit to

his scientific honesty and his psychologic acumen: "I had during many years followed a golden rule, namely,

that whenever a published fact, a new observation or thought, came across me which was opposed to my

general results, to make a memorandum of it without fail and at once; for I had found by experience that such

facts and thoughts were far more apt to escape from the memory than favourable ones" (quoted by Jones, loc.

[8] Cf. Bernheim, Neue Studien �ber Hypnotismus, Suggetion und Psychotherapie, 1892.

[9] Young men of education who can pass the examination and pay for their maintenance serve one instead of

[10] In Bernard Shaw's C�sar and Cleopatra, C�sar's indifference to Cleopatra is depicted by his being vexed

on leaving Egypt at having forgotten to do something. He finally recollected what he had forgotten to take

leave of Cleopatra this, to be sure, is in full accord with historical truth. How little C�sar thought of the

[11] Women, with their fine understanding of unconscious mental processes, are, as a rule, more apt to take

offence when we do not recognize them in the street, and hence do not greet them, than to accept the most

obvious explanation, namely, that the dilatory one is shortsighted or so engrossed in thought that he did not

see them. They conclude that they surely would have been noticed if they had been considered of any

[12] Dr. Ferenczi reports that he was a distracted person himself, and was considered peculiar by his friends

on account of the frequency and strangeness of his failing. But the signs of this inattention have almost all

disappeared since he began to practise psychoanalysis with patients, and was forced to turn his attention to

the analysis of his own ego. He believes that one renounces these failings when one learns to extend by so

much one's own responsibilities. He therefore justly maintains that distractedness is a state which depends on

unconscious complexes, and is curable by psychoanalysis. One day he was reproaching himself for having

committed a technical error in the psychoanalysis of a patient, and on this day all his former distractions

reappeared. He stumbled while walking in the street (a representation of that faux pas in the treatment), he

forgot his pocketbook at home, he was a penny short in his car fare, he did not properly button his clothes,

[13] E. Jones remarks regarding this: "Often the resistance is of a general order. Thus a busy man forgets to

mail a letter entrusted to him to his slight annoyance by his wife, just as he may 'forget' to carry out her

[14] For the sake of the unity of the theme I may here digress from the accepted classification, and add that

the human memory evinces a particular partiality in regard to money matters. False reminiscences of having

already paid something are often very obstinate, as I know from personal experience. When free sway is

given to avaricious intent outside of the serious interests of life, when it is indulged in in the spirit of fun, as

in card playing, we then find that the most honourable men show an inclination to errors, mistakes in memory

and accounts, and without realizing how, they even find themselves involved in small frauds. Such liberties

depend in no small part also on the psychically refreshing character of the play. The saying that in play we

can learn a person's character may be admitted if we can add "the repressed character." If waiters ever make

unintentional mistakes they are apparently due to the same mechanism. Among merchants we can frequently

observe a certain delay in the paying out of sums of money, in payments of bills and the like, which brings

the owner no profit and can be only understood psychologically as the expression of a counterwill against

giving out money. Brill sums it up with epigrammatic keenness: "We are more apt to mislay letters

containing bills than cheques" (Brill, Psychanalysis, its Theories and Practical Application, p. 197).

I shall give another passage from the abovementioned work of Meringer and Mayer (p. 981):

"Lapses in speech do not stand entirely alone. They resemble the errors which often occur in our other

I am therefore in no way the first to presume that there is a sense and purpose behind the slight functional

If the lapse in speech, which is without doubt a motor function, admits of such a conception, it is quite natural

to transfer to the lapses of our other motor functions the same expectation. I have here formed two groups of

cases; all these cases in which the faulty effect seems to be the essential element that is, the deviation

from the intention I denote as erroneously carriedout actions (Vergreifen); the others, in which the entire

action appears rather inexpedient, I call "symptomatic and chance actions. But no distinct line of demarcation

can be formed; indeed, we are forced to conclude that all divisions used in this treatise are or only descriptive

The psychologic understanding of erroneous actions apparently gains little in clearness when we place it

under the head of "ataxia," and especially under "cortical ataxia." Let us rather try to trace the individual

examples to their proper determinants. To do this I shall again resort to personal observations, the

(a) In former years, when I made more calls at the homes of patients than I do at present, it often happened,

when I stood before a door where I should have knocked or rung the bell, that I would pull the key of my own

house from my pocket, only to replace it, quite abashed. When I investigated in what patients' homes this

occurred, I had to admit that the faulty action taking out my key instead of ringing the bell signified

paying a certain tribute to the house where the error occurred. It was equivalent to the thought "Here I feel at

home," as it happened only where I possessed the patient's regard. (Naturally, I never rang my own bell.)

The faulty action was therefore a symbolic representation of a definite thought which was not accepted

consciously as serious; for in reality the neurologist is well aware that the patient seeks him only so long as

he expects to be benefited by him and that his own excessively warm interest for his patient is evinced only

An almost identical repetition of my experience is described by A. Maeder ("Contrib. � la psychopathologie

de la vie quotidienne," Arch.de Psychol., vi., 1906): " Il est arriv� a chacun de sortir son trousseau, �en

arrivant � la porte d'un ami particuli�rement cher, de se surprendre pour ainsi dire, en train d'ouvrir avec sa

cl� comme chez soi. C'est un retard, puisqu'il faut sonner malgr� tout, mais c'est une preuve qu'on se sent

Jones speaks as follows about the use of keys [2] "The use of keys is a fertile source of occurrences of this

kind, of which two examples may be given. If I am disturbed in the midst of some engrossing work at home

by having to go to the hospital to carry out some routine work, I am very apt to find myself trying to open the

door of my laboratory there with the key of my desk at home, although the two keys are quite unlike each

other. The mistake uncon sciously demonstrates where I would rather be at the moment.

"Some years ago I was acting in a subordinate position at a certain institution, the front door of which was

kept locked, so that it was necessary to ring for admission. On several occasions I found myself making

serious attempts to open the door with my house key. Each one of the permanent visiting staff, of which I

aspired to be a member, was provided with a key to avoid the trouble of having to wait at the door. My

mistake thus expressed the desire to be on a similar footing and to be quite 'at home' there."

A similar experience is reported by Dr. Hans Sachs of Vienna: "I always carry two keys with me, one for the

door of my office and one for my residence. They are not by any means easily interchanged, as the office key

is at least three times as big as my house key. Besides, I carry the first in my trouser pocket and the other in

my vest pocket. Yet it often happened that I noticed on reaching the door that while ascending the stairs I had

taken out the wrong key. I decided to undertake a statistical examination; as I was daily in about the same

emotional state when I stood before both doors, I thought that the interchanging of the two keys must show a

regular tendency, if they were differently determined psychically. Observation of later occurrences showed

that I regularly took out my house key before the office door. Only on one occasion was this reversed: I came

home tired, knowing that I would find there a guest. I made an attempt to unlock the door with the, naturally

(b) At a certain time twice a day for six years I was accustomed to wait for admission before a door in the

second story of the same house, and during this long period of time it happened twice (within a short interval)

that I climbed a story higher. On the first of these occasions I was in an ambitious daydream, which allowed

me to "mount always higher and higher." In fact, at that time I heard the door in question open as I put my

foot on the first step of the third flight. On the other occasion I again went too far "engrossed in thought." As

soon as I became aware of it, I turned back and sought to snatch the dominating fantasy; I found that I was

irritated over a criticism of my works, in which the reproach was made that I "always went too far," which I

the close of my office hours, as I wished to catch a certain train, and, despite broad daylight, put the

tuningfork in my coat pocket in place of the reflex hammer. My attention was called to the mistake through

the weight of the object drawing down my pocket. Any one unaccustomed to reflect on such slight

occurrences would without hesitation explain the faulty action by the hurry of the moment, and excuse it. In

spite of that, I preferred to ask myself why I took the tuningfork instead of the hammer. The haste could just

as well have been a motive for carrying out the action properly in order not to waste time over the correction.

"Who last grasped the tuningfork? " was the question which immediately flashed through my mind. It

happened that only a few days ago an idiotic child, whose attention to sensory impressions I was testing, had

been so fascinated by the tuningfork that I found it difficult to tear it away from him. Could it mean,

therefore, that I was an idiot? To be sure, so it would seem, as the next thought which associated itself with

But what was the meaning of this abusive language? We must here inquire into the situation. I hurried to a

consultation at a place on the Western railroad to see a patient who, according to the anamnesis which I

received by letter, had fallen from a balcony some months before, and since then had been unable to walk.

The physician w ho invited me wrote that he was still unable to say whether he was dealing with a spinal

injury or traumatic neurosis hysteria. That was what I was to decide. This could therefore be a reminder to

be particularly careful in this delicate differential diagnosis. As it is, my colleagues think that hysteria is

diagnosed far too carelessly where more serious matters are concerned. But the abuse is not yet justified. Yes,

the next association was that the small railroad station is the same place in which, some years previous, I saw

a young man who, after a certain emotional experience, could not walk properly. At that time I diagnosed his

malady as hysteria, and later put him under psychic treatment; but it afterward turned out that my diagnosis

was neither incorrect nor correct. A large number of the patient's symptoms were hysterical, and they

promptly disappeared in the course of treatment. But back of these there was a visible remnant that could not

be reached by therapy, and could be referred only to a multiple sclerosis. Those who saw the patient after me

had no difficulty in recognizing the organic affection. I could scarcely have acted or judged differently, still

the impression was that of a serious mistake; the promise of a cure which I had given him could naturally not

The mistake in grasping the tuningfork instead of the hammer could therefore be trans lated into the

following words: "You fool, you ass, get yourself together this time, and be careful not to diagnose again a

case of hysteria where there is an incurable disease, as you did in this place years ago in the case of the poor

man !" And fortunately for this little analysis, even if unfortunately for my mood, this same man, now having

a very spastic gait, had been to my office a few days before, one day after the examination of the idiotic child.

We observe that this time it is the voice of selfcriticism which makes itself perceptible through the mistake

in grasping. The erroneously carriedout action is specially suited to express selfreproach. The present

(d) It is quite obvious that grasping the wrong thing may also serve a whole series of other obscure purposes.

Here is a first example: It is very seldom that I break anything. I am not particularly dexterous, but by virtue

of the anatomic integrity of my nervous and muscular apparatus there are apparently no grounds in me for

such awkward movements with undesirable results. I can recall no object in my home the counterpart of

which I have ever broken. Owing to the narrowness of my study it has often been necessary for me to work in

the most uncomfortable position among my numerous antique clay and stone objects, of which I have a small

collection. So much is this true that onlookers have expressed fear lest I topple down something and shatter it.

But it never happened. Then why did I brush to the floor the cover of my simple inkwell so that it broke into

pieces? My inkstand is made of a flat piece of marble which is hollowed out for the reception of the glass

inkwell; the inkwell has a marble cover with a knob of the same stone. A circle of bronze statuettes with

small terracotta figures is set behind this inkstand. I seated myself at the desk to write, I made a remarkably

awkward outward movement with the hand holding the penholder, and so swept the cover of the inkstand,

It is not difficult to find the explanation. Some hours before my sister had been in the room to look at some of

my new acquisitions. She found them very pretty, and then remarked: "Now the desk really looks very well,

only the inkstand does not match. You must get a prettier one." I accompanied my sister out and did not

return for several hours. But then, as it seems, I performed the execution of the condemned inkstand.

Did I perhaps conclude from my sister's words that she intended to present me with a prettier inkstand on the

next festive occasion, and did I shatter the unsightly old one in order to force her to carry out her signified

intention? If that be so, then my swinging motion was only apparently awkward; in reality it was most skilful

and designed, as it understood how to avoid all the valuable objects located near it.

I actually believe that we must accept this explanation of the whole series of seemingly accidental awkward

movements. It is true that on the surface these seem to show something violent and irregular, similar to

spasticataxic movements, but on examination they seem to be dominated by some intention, and they

accomplish their aim with a certainty that cannot be generally credited to conscious arbitrary motions. In both

characteristics, the force as well as the sure aim, they show besides a resemblance to the motor manifestations

of the hysterical neurosis, and in part also to the motor accomplishments of somnambulism, which here as

well as there point to the same unfamiliar modification of the functions of innervation.

In latter years, since I have been collecting such observations, it has happened several times that I have

shattered and broken objects of some value, but the examination of these cases convinced me that it was

never the result of accident or of my unintentional awkwardness. Thus, one morning while in my bathrobe

and straw slippers I followed a sudden impulse as I passed a room, and hurled a slipper from my foot against

the wall so that it brought down a beautiful little marble Venus from its bracket. As it fell to pieces I recited

This crazy action and my calmness at the sight of the damage is explained in the then existing situation. We

had a very sick person in the family, of whose recovery I had personally despaired. That morning I had been

informed that there was a great improvement; I know that I had said to myself, "After all she will live." My

attack of destructive madness served therefore as the expression of a grateful feeling toward fate, and

afforded me the opportunity of performing an "act of sacrifice," just as if I had vowed, "If she gets well I will

give this or that as a sacrifice," That I chose the Venus of Medici as this sacrifice was only gallant homage to

the convalescent. But even today it is still incomprehensible to me that I decided so quickly, aimed so

Another breaking, in which I utilized a penholder falling from my hand, also signified a sacrifice, but this

time it was a pious offering to avert some evil. I had once allowed myself to reproach a true and worthy

friend for no other reason than certain manifestations which I interpreted from his unconscious activity. He

took it amiss and wrote me a letter in which he bade me not to treat my friends by psychoanalysis. I had to

admit that he was right and appeased him with my answer. While writing this letter I had before me my latest

acquisitiona small, handsome glazed Egyptian figure. I broke it in the manner mentioned, and then

immediately knew that I had caused this mischief to avert a greater one. Luckily, both the friendship and the

A third case of breaking had a less serious connection; it was only a disguised "execution," to use an

expression from Th. Vischer's Auch Einer, of an object that no longer suited my taste. For quite a while I had

carried a cane with a silver handle; through no fault of mine the thin silver plate was once damaged and

poorly repaired. Soon after the cane was returned I mirthfully used the handle to angle for the leg of one of

The indifference with which we accept the resulting damage in all these cases may certainly be taken as

(e) As can sometimes be demonstrated by, analysis, the dropping of objects or the overturning and breaking

of the same are very frequently utilized as the expression of unconscious streams of thought, but more often

they serve to represent the superstitious or odd significances connected therewith in popular sayings. The

meanings attached to the spilling of salt, the overturning of a wineglass, the sticking of a knife dropped to the

floor, and so on, are well known. I shall discuss later the right to investigate such superstitious interpretations

; here I shall simply, observe that the individual awkward acts do not by any means always have the same

meaning, but, depending on the circumstances, they serve to represent now this or that purpose.

Recently we passed through a period in my house during which an unusual number of glass and china dishes

were broken. I myself largely contributed to this damage. This little endemic was readily explained by the

fact that it preceded the public betrothal of my eldest daughter. On such festivities it is customary to break

some dishes and utter at the same time some felicitating expression. This custom may signify a sacrifice or

When servants destroy fragile objects through dropping them, we certainly do not think in the first place of a

psychologic motive for it; still, some obscure motives are not improb able even here. Nothing lies farther

from the uneducated than the appreciation of art and works of art. Our servants are dominated by a foolish

hostility against these productions, especially when the objects, whose worth they do not realize ,become a

source of a great deal of work for them. On the other hand, persons of the same education and origin

employed in scientific institutions often distinguish themselves by great dexterity and reliability in the

handling of delicate objects, as soon as they begin to identify themselves with their masters and consider

I shall here add the report of a young mechanical engineer, which gives some insight into the mechanism of

damaging things. "Some time ago I worked with many others in the laboratory of the High School on a series

of complicated experiments on the subject of elasticity. It was a work that we undertook of our own volition,

but it turned out that it took up more of our time than we expected. One day, while going to the laboratory

with F., he complained of losing so much time, especially on this day, when he had so many other things to

do at home. I could only agree with him, and he added half jokingly, alluding to an incident of the previous

week, 'Let us hope that the machine will refuse to work, so that we can interrupt the experiment and go home

"In arranging the work, it happened that F. was assigned to the regulation of the pressure valve, that is, it was

his duty to carefully open the valve and let the fluid under pressure flow from the accumulator into the

cylinder of the hydraulic press. The leader of the experiment stood at the manometer and called a loud 'Stop!'

when the maximum pressure was reached. At this command F. grasped the valve and turned it with all his

force to the left (all valves, without any exception, are closed to the right). This caused a sudden full

pressure in the accumulator of the press, and as there was no outlet, the connecting pipe burst. This was quite

a trifling accident to the machine, but enough to force us to stop our work for the day and go home.

"It is characteristic, moreover, that some time later, on discussing this occurrence, my friend F. could not

Similarly, to fall, to make a misstep, or to slip need not always be interpreted as an entirely accidental

miscarriage of a motor action. The linguistic double meaning of these expressions points to diverse hidden

fantasies, which may present themselves through the giving up of bodily equilibrium. I recall a number of

lighter nervous ailments in women and girls which made their appearance after falling without injury, and

which were conceived as traumatic hysteria as a result of the shock of the fall. At that time I already

entertained the impression that these conditions had a different connection, that the fall was already a

preparation of the neurosis, and an expression of the same unconscious fantasies of sexual content which may

be taken as the moving forces behind the symptoms. Was not this very thing meant in the proverb which

We can also add to these mistakes the case of one who gives a beggar a gold piece in place of a copper or a

silver coin. The solution of such mishandling is simple: it is an act of sacrifice designed to mollify fate, to

avert evil, and so on. If we hear a tender mother or aunt express concern regarding the health of a child,

directly before taking a walk during which she displays her charity, contrary to her usual habit, we can no

longer doubt the sense of this apparently undesirable accident. In this manner our faulty acts make possible

the practice of all those pious and superstitious customs which must shun the light of consciousness, because

(f) That accidental actions are really intentional will find no greater credence in any other sphere than in

sexual activity, where the border between the intention and accident hardly seems discernible, That an

apparently clumsy movement may be utilized in a most refined way for sexual purposes I can verify by; a

nice example from my own experience. In a friend's house I met a young girl visitor who excited in me a

feeling of fondness which I had long believed extinct, thus putting me in a jovial, loquacious, and

complaisant mood. At that time I endeavoured to find out how this came about, as a year before this same girl

As the girl's uncle, a very old man, entered the room, we both jumped to our feet to bring him a chair which

stood in the corner. She was more agile than I and also nearer the object, so that she was the first to take

possession of the chair. She carried it with its back to her, holding both hands on the edge of the seat. As I got

there later and did not give up the claim to carrying the chair, I suddenly stood directly back of her, and with

both my arms was embracing her from behind, and for a moment my hands touched her lap. I naturally

solved the situation as quickly as it came about. Nor did it occur to anybody how dexterously I had taken

Occasionally I have had to admit to myself that the annoying, awkward stepping aside on the street, whereby

for some seconds one steps here and there, yet always in the same direction as the other person, until finally

both stop facing each other, that this "barring one's way" repeats an illmannered, provoking conduct of

earlier times and conceals erotic purposes under the mask of awkwardness. From my psychoanalysis of

neurotics I know that the socalled na�vet� of young people and children is frequently only such a mask,

employed in order that the subject may say or do the indecent without restraint.

W. Stekel has reported similar observations in regard to himself: "I entered a house and offered my right hand

to the hostess. In a most remarkable way I thereby loosened the bow which held together her loose

morninggown. I was conscious of no dishonourable intent, still I executed this awkward movement with the

(g) The effects which result from mistakes of normal persons are, as a rule, of a most harmless nature. Just for

this reason it would be particularly interesting to find out whether mistakes of considerable importance,

which could be followed by serious results, as, for example, those of physicians or druggists, fall within the

As I am seldom in a position to deal with active medical matters, I can only, report onemistake from my own

experience. I treated a very old woman, whom I visited twice daily for several years. My medical activities

were limited to two acts, which I performed during my morning visits: I dropped a few drops of an eye lotion

into her eyes and gave her a hypodermic injection of morphine. I prepared regularly two bottles a blue

one, containing the eye lotion, and a white one, containing the morphine solution. While performing these

duties my thoughts were mostly occupied with something else, for they had been repeated so often that the

attention acted as if free. One morning I noticed that the automaton worked wrong; I had put the dropper into

the white instead of into the blue bottle, and had dropped into the eyes the morphine instead of the lotion. I

was greatly frightened, but then calmed myself through the reflection that a few drops of a two per cent.

solution of morphine would not likely do any harm even if left in the conjunctival sac. The cause of the fright

In attempting to analyse the slight mistake I first thought of the phrase, "to seize the old woman by mistake,"

which pointed out the short way to the solution. I had been impressed by a dream which a young man had

told me the previous evening, the contents of which could be explained only on the basis of sexual inter

course with his own mother.[4] The strangeness of the fact that the Oedipus legend takes no offence at the

age of Queen Jocasta seemed to me to agree with the assumption that in being in love with one's mother we

never deal with the present personality, but with her youthful memory picture carried over from our

childhood. Such incongruities always show themselves where one fantasy fluctuating between two periods is

Deep in thoughts of this kind, I came to my patient of over ninety; I must have been well on the way to grasp

the universal character of the Oedipus fable as the correlation of the fate which the oracle pronounces, for I

made a blunder in reference to or on the old woman. Here, again, the mistake was harmless; of the two

possible errors, taking the morphine solution for the eye, or the eye lotion for the injection, I chose the one by

far the least harmful. The question still remains open whether in mistakes in handling things which may cause

serious harm we can assume an unconscious intention as in the cases here discussed.

The following case from Brill's experience corroborates the assumption that even serious mistakes are

determined by unconscious intentions: "A physician received a telegram informing him that his aged uncle

was very sick. In spite of important family affairs at home he at once repaired to that distant town because his

uncle was really his father, who had cared for him since he was one and a half years old, when his own father

had died. On reaching there he found his uncle suffering from pneumonia, and, as the old man was an

octogenarian, the doctors held out no hope for his recovery. 'It was simply a question of a day or two,' was the

local doctor's verdict. Although a prominent physician in a big city, he refused to cooperate in the treatment,

as he found that the case was properly managed by the local doctor, and he could not suggest anything to

"Since death was daily expected, he decided to remain to the end. He waited a few days, but the sick man

struggled hard, and although there was no question of any recovery, because of the many new complications

which had arisen, death seemed to be deferred for a while. One night before retiring he went into the

sickroom and took his uncle's pulse. As it was quite weak, he decided not to wait for the doctor, and

administered a hypodermic injection. The patient grew rapidly worse and died within a few hours.

There was something strange in the last symptoms, and on later attempting to replace the tube of hypodermic

tablets into the case, he found to his consternation that he had taken out the wrong tube, and instead of a small

"This case was related to me by the doctor after he read my paper on the Oedipus Complex.[5] We agreed

that this mistake was determined not only by his impatience to get home to his sick child, but also by an old

It is known that in the more serious cases of psychoneuroses one sometimes finds selfmutilations as

symptoms of the disease. That the psychic conflict may end in suicide can never be excluded in these cases.

Thus I know from experience, which some day I shall support with convincing examples, that many

apparently accidental injuries happening to such patients are really selfinflicted. This is brought about by the

fact that there is a constantly lurking tendency to selfpunishment, usually expressing itself in selfreproach,

or contributing to the formation of a symptom, which skilfully makes use of an external situation. The

required external situation may accidentally present itself or the punishment tendency may assist it until the

Such occurrences are by no means rare even in cases of moderate severity, and they betray the portion of

unconscious intention through a series of special features for example, through the striking presence of

I will report exhaustively one in place of many such examples from my professional experience. A young

woman broke her leg below the knee in a carriage accident so that she was bedridden for weeks. The striking

part of it was the lack of any manifestation of pain and the calmness with which she bore her misfortune. This

calamity ushered in a long and serious neurotic illness, from which she was finally cured by psychotherapy.

During the treatment I discovered the circumstances surrounding the accident, as well as certain impressions

which preceded it. The young woman with her jealous husband spent some time on the farm of her married

sister, in company with her numerous other brothers and sisters with their wives and husbands. One evening

she gave an exhibition of one of her talents before this intimate circle; she danced artistically the "cancan," to

the great delight of her relatives, but to the great annoyance of her husband, who afterward whispered to her,

"Again you have behaved like a prostitute." The words took effect; we will leave it undecided whether it was

just on account of the dance. That night she was restless in her sleep, and the next forenoon she decided to go

out driving. She chose the horses herself refusing one team and demanding another. Her youngest sister

wished to have her baby with its nurse accompany her, but she opposed this vehemently. During the drive she

was nervous; she reminded the coachman that the horses were getting skittish, and as the fidgety animals

really produced a momentary difficulty she jumped from the carriage in fright and broke her leg, while those

remaining; in the carriage were uninjured. Although after the disclosure of these details we can hardly doubt

that this accident was really contrived, we cannot fail to admire the skill which forced the accident to mete

out a punishment so suitable to the crime. For as it happened "cancan" dancing with her became impossible

Concerning selfinflicted injuries of my own experience, I cannot report anything in calm times, but under

extraordinary: conditions I do not believe myself incapable of such acts. When a member of my family

complains that he or she has bitten his tongue, bruised her finger, and so on, instead of the expected sympathy

I put the question, "Why did you do that?" But I have most painfully squeezed my thumb, after a youthful

patient acquainted me during the treatment with his intention (naturally not to be taken seriously) of marrying

my eldest daughter, while I knew that she was then in a private hospital in extreme danger of losing her life.

One of my boys, whose vivacious temperament was wont to put difficulties in the management of nursing

him in his illness, had a fit of anger one morning because he was ordered to remain in bed during the

forenoon, and threatened to kill himself a way out suggested to him by the newspapers. In the evening he

showed me a swelling on the side of his chest which was the result of bumping against the door knob. To my

ironical question why he did it, and what he meant by, it, the elevenyearold child explained, "That was my

attempt at suicide which I threatened this morning." However, I do not believe that my views on

Whoever believes in the occurrence of semiintentional selfinflicted injury if this awkward expression

be permitted will become prepared to accept through it the fact that aside from conscious intentional

suicide there also exists semiintentional annihilation with unconscious intention which is capable of

aptly utilizing a threat against life and masking it as a casual mishap. Such mechanism is by no means rare.

For the tendency to selfdestruction exists to a certain degree in many more persons than in those who bring

it to completion. Selfinflicted injuries are, as a rule, a compromise between this impulse and the forces

working against it, and even where it really comes to suicide the inclination has existed for a long time with

Even suicide consciously committed chooses its time, means, and opportunity; it is quite natural that

unconscious suicide should wait for a motive to take upon itself one part of the causation and thus free it from

its oppression by taking up the defensive forces of the person.[7] These are in no way idle discussions which

I here bring up; more than one case of apparently accidental misfortune (on a horse or out of a carriage) has

become known to me whose surrounding circumstances justified the suspicion of suicide.

For example, during an officers' horserace one of the riders fell from his horse and was so seriously injured

that a few days later he succumbed to his injuries. His behaviour after regaining consciousness was

remarkable in more than one way, and his conduct previous to the accident was still more remarkable. He had

been greatly depressed by the death of his beloved mother, had crying spells in the society of his comrades,

and to his trusted friend had spoken of the t�dium vit�. He had wished to quit the service in order to take

part in a war in Africa which had no interest for him.[8] Formerly a keen rider, he had later evaded riding

whenever possible. Finally, before the horserace, from which he could not withdraw, he expressed a sad

foreboding, which most expectedly in the light of our conception came true. It may be contended that it is

quite comprehensible without any further cause that a person in such a state of nervous depression cannot

manage a horse as well as on normal days. I quite agree with that, only, I should like to look for the

mechanism of this motor inhibition through "nervousness" in the intention of selfdestruction here

Dr. Ferenczi has left to me for publication the analysis of an apparently accidental injury by shooting which

he explained as an unconscious attempt at suicide. I can only agree with his deduction :

"J. Ad., 22 years old, carpenter, visited me on the 18th of January, 1908. He wished to know whether the

bullet which pierced his left temple March 20, 1907, could or should be removed by operation. Aside from

occasional, not very severe, headaches, he felt quite well, also the objective examination showed nothing

besides the characteristic powder wound on the left temple, so that I advised against an operation. When

questioned concerning the circumstances of the case he asserted that he injured himself accidentally. He was

playing with his brother's revolver, and believing that it was not loaded he pressed it with his left hand:

against the left temple (he is not lefthanded), put his finger on the trigger, and the shot went off. There were

"I asked him how he came to carry the revolver, and he answered that it was at the time of his army

conscription, that he took it to the inn the evening before because he feared fights. At the army examination

he was considered unfit for service on account of varicose veins, which caused him much mortification. He

went home and played with the revolver. He had no intention of hurting himself, but the accident occurred.

On further questioning, whether he was otherwise satisfied with his fortune, he answered with a sigh, and

related a love affair with a girl who loved him in return, but nevertheless left him. She emigrated to America

out of sheer avariciousness. He wanted to follow her, but his parents prevented him. His ladylove left on the

"Despite all these suspicious elements the patient insisted that the shot was an 'accident.' I was firmly

convinced, however, that the neglect to find out whether the revolver was loaded before he began to play with

it, as well as the selfinflicted injury, were psychically determined. He was still under the depressing effects

of the unhappy love affair, and apparently wanted 'to forget everything' in the army. When this hope, too, was

taken away from him he resorted to playing with the weapon that is, to an unconscious attempt at suicide.

The fact that he did not hold the revolver in the right but in the left hand speaks conclusively in favour of the

fact that he was really only 'playing' that is, he did not wish consciously to commit suicide."

Another analysis of an apparently accidental selfinflicted wound, detailed to me by an observer, recalls the

"Mrs. X., belonging to a good middleclass family, is married and has three children. She is somewhat

nervous, but never needed any strenuous treatment, as she could sufficiently adapt herself to life. One day she

sustained a rather striking though transitory disfigurement of her face in the following manner: She stumbled

in a street that was in process of repair and struck her face against the house wall. The whole face was

bruised, the eyelids blue and oedematous, and as she feared that something might happen to her eyes she sent

for the doctor. After she was calmed I asked her, 'But why did you fall in such a manner? She answered that

just before this accident she wanted her husband, who had been suffering for some months from a joint

affection, to be very careful in the street, and she often had the experience that in some remarkable way those

"I was not satisfied with this as the determination of her accident, and asked her whether she had not

something else to tell me. 'Yes, just before the accident she noticed a nice picture in a shop on the other side

or the street, which she suddenly desired as an ornament for her nursery, and wished to buy it at once. She

thereupon walked across to the shop without looking at the street, stumbled over a heap of stones, and fell

with her face against the wall without making the slightest effort to shield herself with her hands. The

intention to buy the .picture was immediately forgotten, and she walked home in haste.'

"'Oh!' she answered, 'perhaps it was only a punishment for that episode which I confided to you!'

"'Yes, later I regretted it very much; I considered myself wicked, criminal, and immoral, but at the time I was

"She referred to an abortion which was started by a quack and had to be brought to completion by a

gynecologist. This abortion was initiated with the consent of her husband, as both wished, on account of their

pecuniary circumstances, to be spared from being additionally blessed with children.

"She said: 'I had often reproached myself with the words, "You really had your child killed," and I feared that

such a crime could not remain unpunished. Now that you have assured me that there is nothing seriously

wrong with my eyes I am quite assured I have already been sufficiently punished.'

"This accident, therefore, was, on the one hand, a retribution for her sin, but, on the other hand, it may have

served as an escape from a more dire punishment which she had feared for many months. In the moment that

she ran to the shop to buy the picture the memory of this whole history, with its fears (already quite active in

her unconscious at the time she warned her husband), became overwhelming and could perhaps find

expression in words like these: 'But why do you want an ornament for the nursery? you who had your

"This thought did not become conscious, but instead of it she made use of the situation I might say of the

psychologic moment to utilize in a commonplace manner the heap of stones to inflict upon herself this

punishment. It was for this reason that she did not even attempt to put out her arms while falling and was not

much frightened. The second, and probably lesser, determinant of her accident was obviously the

selfpunishment for her unconscious wish to be rid of her husband, who was an accessory to the crime in this

affair. This was betrayed by her absolutely superfluous warning to be very careful in the street on account of

the stones. For, just because her husband had a weak leg, he was very careful in walking."

If such a rage against one's own integrity and one's own life can be hidden behind apparently accidental

awkwardness and motor insufficiency then it is not a big step forward to grasp the possibility of transferring

the same conception to mistakes which seriously endanger the life and health of others. What I can put

forward as evidence for the validity of this conception was taken from my experience with neurotics, and

hence does not fully meet the demands of this situation. I will report a case in which it was not an erroneously

carriedout action, but what may be more aptly termed a symbolic or chance action that gave me the clue

I once undertook to improve the marriage relations of a very intelligent man, whose differences with his

tenderly attached young wife could surely be traced to real causes, but as he himself admitted could not be

altogether explained through them. He continually occupied himself with the thought of a separation, which

he repeatedly rejected because he dearly loved his two small children. In spite of this he always returned to

that resolution and sought no means to make the situation bearable to himself. Such an unsettlement of a

conflict served to prove to me that there were unconscious and repressed motives which enforced the

conflicting conscious thoughts, and in such cases I always undertake to end the conflict by psychic analysis.

One day the man related to me a slight occurrence which had extremely frightened him. He was sporting with

the older child, by far his favourite. He tossed it high in the air and repeated this tossing till finally he thrust it

so high that its head almost struck the massive gas chandelier. Almost, but not quite, or say "just about!"

Nothing happened to the child except that it became dizzy from fright. The father stood transfixed with the

child in his arms, while the mother merged into an hysterical attack. The particular facility of this careless

movement, with the violent reaction in the parents, suggested to me to look upon this accident as a symbolic

I could remove the contradiction of the actual tenderness of this father for his child by referring the impulse

to injure it to the time when it was the only one, and so small that as yet the father had no occasion for tender

interest in it. Then it was easy to assume that this man, so little pleased with his wife at that time, might have

thought: "If this small being for whom I have no regard whatever should die, I would be free and could

separate from my wife." The wish for the death of this much loved being must therefore have continued

unconsciously. From here it was easy to find the way to the unconscious fixation of this wish.

There was indeed a powerful determinant in a memory from the patient's childhood: it referred to the death of

a little brother, which the mother laid to his father's negligence, and which led to serious quarrels with threats

of separation between the parents. The continued course of my patient's life, as well as the therapeutic

[1] A second publication of Meringer has later shown me how very unjust I was to this author when I

[4] The Oedipus dream as I was wont to call it, because it contains the key to the understanding of the legend

of King Oedipus. In the text of Sophocles the relation of such a dream is put in the mouth of Jocasta (cf. The

[5] New York Medical Journal, September, 1912. Reprinted in large form as Chapter X of Psychoanalysis,

[6] The selfinflicted injury which does not entirely tend toward selfannihilation has, moreover, no other

choice in our present state of civilization than to hide itself behind the accidental, or to break through in a

simulation of spontaneous illness. Formerly, it was a customary sign of mourning, at other times it expressed

[7] The case is then identical with a sexual attack on a woman, in whom the attack of the man cannot be

warded off through the full muscular strength of the woman because a portion of the unconscious feelings of

the one attacked meets it with ready acceptance. To be sure, it is said that such a situation paralyses the

strength of a woman; we need only add the reasons for this paralysis. Insofar the clever sentence of Sancho

Panza, which he pronounced as governor of his island, is psychologically unjust (Don Quixote, vol. ii. chap.

xlv). A woman hauled before the judge a man who was supposed to have robbed her of her honour by force

of violence. Sancho indemnified her with a full purse which he took from the accused, but after the departure

of the woman he gave the accused permission to follow her and snatch the purse from her. Both returned

wrestling, the woman priding herself that the villain was unable to possess himself of the purse. Thereupon

Sancho spoke: "Had you shown yourself so stout and valiant to defend your body (nay, but half so much) as

you have done to defend your purse, the strength of Hercules could not have forced you."

[8] It is evident that the situation of a battlefield is such as to meet the requirement of conscious suicidal

intent which, nevertheless, shuns the direct way. Cf. in Wallenstein the words of the Swedish captain

[9] "Selbstbestrafung wegen Abortus von Dr. J. E. G. van Emden," Haag (Holland), Zentralb. f.

The actions described so far, in which we recognize the execution of an unconscious intention, appeared as

disturbances of other unintended actions, and hid themselves under the pretext of awkwardness. Chance

actions, which we shall now discuss, differ from erroneously carried out actions only in that they disdain the

support of a conscious intention and really need no pretext. They appear independently and are accepted

because one does not credit them with any aim or purpose. We execute them "without thinking anything of

them," "by mere chance," "just to keep the hands busy," and we feel confident that such information will be

quite sufficient should one inquire as to their significance. In order to enjoy the advantage of this exceptional

position these actions which no longer claim awkwardness as an excuse must fulfil certain conditions: they

I have collected a large number of such "chance actions" from myself and others, and after thoroughly

investigating the individual examples, I believe that the name "symptomatic actions" is more suitable. They

give expression to something which the actor himself does not suspect in them, and which as a rule he has no

intention of imparting to others, but aims to keep to himself. Like the other phenomena considered so far,

The richest output of such chance or symptomatic actions is above all obtained in the psychoanalytic

treatment of neurotics. I cannot deny myself the pleasure of showing by two examples of this nature how far

and how delicately the determination of these plain occurrences are swayed by unconscious thoughts. The

line of demarcation between the symptomatic actions and the erroneously carried out actions is so indefinite

(a) During the analysis a young woman reproduced this idea which suddenly occurred to her. Yesterday while

cutting her nails "she had cut into the flesh while engaged in trimming the cuticle." This is of so little interest

that we ask in astonishment why it is at all remembered and mentioned, and therefore come to the conclusion

that we deal with a symptomatic action. It was really the finger upon which the weddingring is worn which

was injured through this slight awkwardness. It happened, moreover, on her weddingday, which thus gives

to the injury of the delicate skin a very definite and easily guessed meaning. At the same time she, also

related a dream which alluded to the awkwardness of her husband and her anesthesia as a woman. But why

did she injure the ring finger of her left hand when the weddingring is worn on the right? Her husband is a

jurist, a "Doctor of Laws" (Doktor der Rechte, literally a Doctor of Rights), and her secret affection as a girl

belonged to a physician who was jokingly called Doktor der Linke (literally, Doctor of Left). Incidentally a

(b) A single young woman relates: "Yesterday, quite unintentionally, I tore a hundreddollar note in two

pieces and gave half to a woman who was visiting me. Is that, too, a symptomatic action?" After closer

investigation the matter of the hundreddollar note elicited the following associations: She dedicated a part of

her time and her fortune to charitable work. Together with another woman she was taking care of the rearing

of an orphan. The hundred dollars was the contribution sent her by that woman, which she enclosed in an

The visitor was a prominent woman with whom she was associated in another act of charity. This woman

wished to note the names of a number of persons to whom she could apply for charitable aid. There was no

paper, so my patient grasped the envelope from her desk, and without thinking of its contents tore it in two

pieces, one of which she kept, in order to have a duplicate list of names, and gave the other to her visitor.

Note the harmlessness of this aimless occurrence. It is known that a hundreddollar note suffers no loss in

value when it is torn, provided all the pieces are produced. That the woman would not throw away the piece

of paper was assumed by the importance of the names on it, and there was just as little doubt that she would

But to what unconscious thought should this chance action, which was made possible through forgetfulness,

give expression? The visitor in this case had a very definite relation to my patient and myself. It was she who

at one time had recommended me as physician to the suffering girl, and if I am, not mistaken my patient

considered herself indebted for this advice. Should this halved hundreddollar note perhaps represent a fee

But other material was added to this beginning. Several days before a woman mediator of a different sort had

inquired of a relative whether the gracious young lady wished to make the acquaintance of a certain

gentleman, and that morning, some hours before the woman's visit, the wooing letter of the suitor arrived,

giving occasion for much mirth. When therefore the visitor opened the conversation with inquiries regarding

the health of my patient, the latter could well have thought: "You certainly found me the right doctor, but if

you could assist me in obtaining the right husband (and a child) I should be still more grateful."

Both mediators became fused into one in this repressed thought, and she handed the visitor the fee which her

fantasy was ready to give the other. This resolution became perfectly convincing when I add that I had told

her of such chance or symptomatic actions only the previous evening. She then took advantage of the next

We can undertake a grouping of these extremely frequent chance and symptomatic actions according to their

occurrence as habitual, regular under certain circumstances, and as isolated ones. The first group (such as

playing with the watchchain, fingering one's beard, and so on), which can almost serve as a characteristic of

the person concerned, is related to the numerous tic movements, and certainly deserves to be dealt with in

connection with the latter. In the second group I place the playing with one's cane, the scribbling with one's

pencil, the jingling of coins in one's pocket, kneading dough and other plastic materials, all sorts of handling

These playful occupations during psychic treatment regularly conceal sense and meaning to which other

expression is denied. Generally the person in question knows nothing about it; he is unaware whether he is

doing the same thing or whether he has imitated certain modifications in his customary playing, and he also

fails to see or hear the effects of these actions. For example, he does not hear the noise which is produced by

the jingling of coins, and he is astonished and incredulous when his attention is called to it. Of equal

significance to the physician, and worthy of his observation, is everything that one does with his clothing

often without noticing it. Every change in the customary attire, every little negligence, such as an unfastened

button, every trace of exposure means to express something that the wearer of the apparel does not wish to

The interpretation of these trifling chance actions, as well as the proof for their interpretation, can be

demonstrated every time with sufficient certainty from the surrounding circumstances during the treatment,

from the themes under discussion, and from the ideas that come to the surface when attention is directed to

the seeming accident. Because of this connection I will refrain from supporting my assertions by reporting

examples with their analyses; but I mention these matters because I believe that they have the same meaning

I cannot, however, refrain from showing by at least one example how closely an habitually accomplished

symbolic action may be connected with the most intimate and important part of the life of a normal

"As Professor Freud has taught us, the symbolism in the infantile life of the normal plays a greater r�1e than

was expected from earlier psychoanalytic experiences. In view of this the following brief analysis may be of

"A doctor on rearranging his furniture in a new house came across a straight, wooden stethoscope, and, after

pausing to decide where he should put it, was impelled to place it on the side of his writingdesk in such a

position that it stood exactly between his chair and the one reserved for his patients. The act in itself was

certainly odd, for in the first place the straight stethoscope served no purpose, as he invariably used a binaural

one; and in the second place all his medical apparatus and instruments were always kept in drawers, with the

sole exception of this one. However, he gave no thought to the matter until one day it was brought to his

notice by a patient who had never seen a wooden stethoscope, asking him what it was. On being told, she

asked why he kept it there. He answered in an offhand way that that place was as good as any other. This,

however, started him thinking, and he wondered whether there had been an unconscious motive in his action.

Being interested in the psychoanalytic method, he asked me to investigate the matter.

"The first memory that occurred to him was the fact that when a medical student he had been struck by the

habit his hospital interne had of always carrying in his hand a wooden stethoscope on his ward visits,

although he never used it. He greatly admired this interne, and was much attached to him. Later on, when he

himself became an interne he contracted the same habit, and would feel very uncomfortable if by mistake he

left the room without having the instrument to swing in his hand. The aimlessness of the habit was shown,

not only by the fact that the only stethoscope he ever used was a binaural one, which he carried in his pocket,

but also in that it was continued when he was a sur gical interne and never needed any stethoscope at all.

"From this it was evident that the idea of the instrument in question had in some way or other become

invested with a greater psychic significance than normally belongs to it in other words, that to the subject

it stood for more than it does for other people. The idea must have got unconsciously associated with some

other one, which it symbolized, and from which it derived its additional fulness of meaning. I will forestall

the rest of the analysis by saying what this secondary idea was namely, a phallic one; the way in which

this curious association had been formed will presently be related. The discomfort he experienced in hospital

on missing the instrument, and the relief and assurance the presence of it gave him, was related to what is

known as a 'castrationcomplex' namely, a childhood fear, often continued in a disguised form into adult

life, lest a private part of his body should be taken away from him, just as playthings so often were. The fear

was due to paternal threats that it would be cut off if he were not a good boy, particularly in a certain

direction. This is a very common complex, and accounts for a great deal of general nervousness and lack of

"Then came a number of childhood memories relating to his family doctor. He had been strongly attached to

this doctor as a child, and during the analysis longburied memories were recovered of a double phantasy he

had in his fourth year concerning the birth of a younger sister namely, that she was the child (1) of himself

and his mother, the father being relegated to the background, and (2) of the doctor and himself; in this he thus

played both a masculine and feminine part.[2] At the time, when his curiosity was being aroused by the event,

he could not help noticing; the prominent share taken by the doctor in the proceedings, and the subordinate

position occupied by the father: the significance of this for his later life will presently be pointed out.

"The stethoscope association was formed through many connections. In the first place, the physical

appearance of the instrument a straight, rigid, hollow tube, having a small bulbous summit at one

extremity and a broad base at the other and the fact of its being the essential part of the medical

paraphernalia, the instrument with which the doctor performed his magical and interesting feats, were matters

that attracted his boyish attention. He had had his chest repeatedly examined by the doctor at the age of six,

and distinctly recollected the volup tuous sensation of feeling the latter's head near him pressing the wooden

stethoscope into his chest, and of the rhythmic toandfro respiratory movement. He had been struck by the

doctor's habit of carrying his stethoscope inside his hat; he found it interesting that the doctor should carry his

chief instrument concealed about his person, always handy when he went to see patients, and that he only had

to take off his hat (i.e., a part of his clothing) and 'pull it out.' At the age of eight he was impressed by being

told by an older boy that it was the doctor's custom to get into bed with his women patients. It is certain that

the doctor, who was young and handsome, was extremely popular among the women of the neighbourhood,

including the subject's own mother. The doctor and his 'instrument' were therefore the objects of great interest

"It is probable that, as in many other cases, unconscious identification with the family doctor had been a main

motive in determining the subject's choice of profession. It was here doubly conditioned (1) by the superiority

of the doctor on certain interesting occasions to the father, of whom the subject was very jealous, and (2) by

the doctor's knowledge of forbidden topics[3] and his opportunity for illicit indulgence. The subject admitted

that he had on several occasions experienced erotic temptations in regard to his women patients; he had twice

"The next memory was of a dream, plainly of a homosexualmasochistic nature; in it a man, who proved to

be a replacement figure of the family doctor, attacked the subject with a 'sword.' The idea of a sword, as is so

frequently the case in dreams, represented the same idea that was mentioned above to be associated with that

of a wooden stethoscope. The thought of a sword reminded the subject of the passage in the Nibelung Saga,

where Sigurd sleeps with his naked sword (Gram) between him and Brunhilda, an incident that had always

"The meaning of the symptomatic act now at last became clear. The subject had placed his wooden

stethoscope between him and his patients, just as Sigurd had placed his sword (an equivalent symbol)

between him and the maiden he was not to touch. The act was a compromiseformation; it served both to

gratify in his imagination the repressed wish to enter into nearer relations with an attractive patient

(interposition of phallus), and at the same time to remind him that this wish was not to become a reality

(interposition of sword). It was, so to speak, a charm against yielding to temptation.

"I might add that the following passage from Lord Lytton's Richelieu made a great impression on the boy:

and that he became a prolific writer and uses an unusually large fountainpen. ,When I asked him what need

he had of this pen, he replied in a characteristic manner, 'I have so much to express.'

"This analysis again reminds us of the profound views that are afforded us in the psychic life through the

'harmless' and 'senseless' actions, and how early in life the tendency to symbolization develops."

I can also relate an experience from my psychotherapeutic practice in which the hand, playing with a mass of

breadcrumbs, gave evidence of an eloquent declaration. My patient was a boy not yet thirteen years of age,

who had been very hysterical for two years. I finally took him for psychoanalytic treatment, after a lengthy

stay at a hydrotherapeutic institution had proved futile. My supposition was that he must have had sexual

experiences, and that, corresponding to his age, he had been troubled by sexual questions; but I was cautious

about helping him with explanations as I wished to test further my assumption. I was therefore curious as to

One day it struck me that he was rolling something between the fingers of his right hand; he would thrust it

into his pocket and there continue playing with it, then would draw it out again, and so on. I did not ask what

he had in his hand; but as he suddenly opened his hand he showed it to me. It was breadcrumbs kneaded

into a mass. At the next session he again brought along a mass, and in the course of our conversation,

although his eyes were closed, modelled a figure with an incredible rapidity which excited my interest.

Without doubt it was a manikin like the crudest prehistoric idols, with a head, two arms, two legs, and an

This was scarcely completed when he kneaded the manikin together again: later he allowed it to remain, but

modelled an identical appendage on the flat of the back and on other parts in order to veil the meaning of the

first. I wished to show him that I had understood him, but at the same time I wanted to deprive him of the

evasion that he had thought of nothing while actively forming these figures. With this in tention I suddenly

asked him whether he remembered the story of the Roman king who gave his son's envoy a pantomimic

The boy did not wish to recall what he must have learned so much more recently than I. He asked if that was

the story of the slave on whose bald skull the answer was written. I told him, " No, that belonged to Greek

history," and related the following: "King Tarquinius Superbus had induced his son Sextus to steal into a

Latin city. The son, who had later obtained a foothold in the city, sent a messenger to the king asking what

steps he should take next. The king gave no answer, but went into his garden, had the question repeated there,

and silently struck off the heads of the largest and most beautiful poppies. All that the messenger could do

was to report this to Sextus, who understood his father, and caused the most distinguished citizens of the city

While I was speaking the boy stopped kneading, and as I was relating what the king did in his garden, I

noticed that at the words "silently struck" he tore off the head of the manikin with a movement as quick as

lightning. He therefore understood me, and showed that he was also understood by me. Now I could question

him directly, and gave him the information that he desired, and in a short time the neurosis came to an end.

The symptomatic actions which: we observe in inexhaustible abundance in healthy as well as in nervous

people are worthy of our interest for more than one reason. To the physician they often serve as valuable

indications for orienting himself in new or unfamiliar conditions; to the keen observer they often betray

everything, occasionally even more than he cares to know. He who is familiar with its application sometimes

feels like King Solomon, who, according to the Oriental legend, understood the language of animals.

One day I was to examine a strange young man at his mother's home. As he came towards me I was attracted

by a large stain on his trousers, which by its peculiar stiff edges I recognized as one produced by albumen.

After a moment's embarrassment the young man excused this stain by remarking that he was hoarse and

therefore drank a raw egg, and that some of the slippery white of the egg had probably fallen on his clothes.

To confirm his statements he showed the eggshell which could still be seen on a small plate in the room. The

suspicious spot was thus explained in this harmless way; but as his mother left us alone I thanked him for

having so greatly facilitated the diagnosis for me, and without further pro cedure I took as the topic of our

discussion his confession that he was suffering from the effects of masturbation.

Another time I called on a woman as rich as she was miserly and foolish, who was in the habit of giving the

physician the task of working his way through a heap of her complaints before he could reach the simple

cause of her condition. As I entered she was sitting at a small table engaged in arranging silver dollars in little

piles as she rose she tumbled some of the pieces of money to the floor. I helped her pick them up, but

interrupted the recitation of her misery by remarking: "Has your good soninlaw been spending so much of

your money again? " She bitterly denied this, only to relate a few moments later the lamentable story of the

aggravation caused by her soninlaw's extravagances. And she has not sent for me since. I cannot maintain

that one always makes friends of those to whom he tells the meaning of their symptomatic actions.

He who observes his fellowmen while at table will be able to verify in them the nicest and most instructive

"I happened to be present when an elderly, couple related to me partook of their supper. The lady had

stomach trouble and was forced to follow a strict diet. A roast was put before the husband, and he requested

his wife, who was not allowed to partake of this food, to give him the mustard. The wife opened the closet

and took out the small bottle of stomach drops, and placed it on the table before her husband. Between the

barrelshaped mustardglass and the small dropbottle there was naturally no similarity through which the

mishandling could be explained; yet the wife only noticed the mistake after her husband laughingly called her

For an excellent example of this kind which was very skilfully utilized by the observer, I am indebted to Dr.

"I dined in a restaurant with my colleague H., a doctor of philosophy. He spoke about the injustice done to

probationary students, and added that even before he finished his studies he was placed as secretary to the

ambassador, or rather the extraordinary plenipotentiary Minister to Chili [sic]. 'But,' he added, 'the minister

was afterwards transferred, and I did not make any effort to meet the newly appointed.' While uttering the last

sentence he was lifting a piece of pie to his mouth, but he let it drop as if out of awkwardness. I immediately

grasped the hidden sense of this symptomatic action, and remarked to my colleague, who was unacquainted

with psychoanalysis, 'You really allowed a very choice morsel to slip from you.' He did not realize, however,

that my words could equally refer to his symptomatic action, and he repeated the same words I uttered with a

peculiarly agreeable and surprising vividness, as if I had actually taken the words from his mouth: 'It was

really a very choice morsel that I allowed to get away from me.' He then followed this remark with a detailed

description of his clumsiness, which has cost him this very remunerative position.

"The sense of this symbolic action becomes clearer if we remember that my colleague had scruples about

telling me, almost a perfect stranger, concerning his precarious material situation, and his repressed thought

took on the mask of symptomatic action which expressed symbolically what was meant to be concealed, and

That the taking away or taking along things without any apparent intention may prove to be senseful [sic]

1. Dr. B. Dattner relates: "An acquaintance paid the first aftermarriage visit to a highly regarded lady friend

of his youth. He told me of this visit and expressed his surprise at the fact that he failed in his resolution to

visit with her only a short time, and then reported to me a rather strange faulty act which happened to him

"The husband of this friend, who took part in the conversation, was looking for a box of matches which he

was sure was on the table when he came there. My acquaintance, too, looked through his pockets to ascertain

whether he had not put it in his pocket, but without avail. Some time later he actually found it in his pocket,

"A dream a few days later showing the box symbolism in reference to the friend of his youth confirmed my

explanation. With the symptomatic action my acquaintance meant to announce his priorityright and the

Dr. Hans Sachs relates the following: "Our cook is very fond of a certain kind of pie. There is no possible

doubt about this, as it is the only kind of pastry which she always prepares well. One Sunday she brought this

pie to the table, took it off the pieplate, and proceeded to remove the dishes used in the former course, but

on the top of this pile she placed the pie, and disappeared with it into the kitchen.

We first thought that she had something to improve on the pie, but as she failed to appear my wife rang the

bell and asked, 'Betty, what happened to the pie?' to which the girl answered, without comprehending the

question, 'How is that?' We had to call her attention to the fact that she carried the pie back to the kitchen. She

had put it on the pile of dishes, taken it out, and put it away 'without noticing it.'

"The next day, when we were about to consume the rest of the pie, my wife noticed that there was as much of

it as we had left the day before that is, the girl had disdained to eat the portion of her favourite dish which

was rightly hers. Questioned why she did not eat the pie, she answered, somewhat embarrassed, that she did

"The infantile attitude is distinctly noticeable on both occasions first the childish insatiableness in refusing

to share with anybody the object of her wishes, then the reaction of spite which is just as childish: 'If you

Chance or symptomatic actions occurring in affairs of married life have often a most serious significance, and

could lead those who do not concern themselves with the psychology of the unconscious to a belief in omens.

It is not an auspicious beginning if a young woman loses her weddingring on her weddingtour, even if it

I know a woman, now divorced, who in the management of her business affairs frequently signed her maiden

Once I was the guest of a newly married couple and heard the young woman laughingly relate her latest

experience, how, on the day succeeding her return from the wedding tour she had sought out her single sister

in order to go shopping with her as in former times, while her husband was attending business. Suddenly she

noticed a man on the opposite side of the street; nudging her sister she said, "Why, that is surely Mr. L." She

forgot that for some weeks this man had been her husband. I was chilled at this tale, but I did not dare draw

any inferences. The little story came back to me only several years later, after this marriage had ended most

The following observation, which could as well have found a place among the examples of forgetting, was

"Une dame nous racontait r�cement qu'elle avait oublie d'essayer sa robe de noce et s'en souvint la veille du

marriage, � huit heur du soir, la couturi�re d�sesp�rait de voir sa cliente. Ce d�tail suffit � montrer que la

fianc�e ne se sentait pas tr�s hereuse de porter une robe d'�pouse, elle cherchait � oublier cette repr�

A friend who has learned to observe signs related to me that the great actress Eleanora Duse introduces a

symptomatic action into one of her r�les which shows very nicely from what depth she draws her acting. It is

a drama dealing with adultery; she has just been discussing with her husband and now stands soliloquizing

before the seducer makes his appearance. During this short interval she plays with her weddingring, she

pulls it off, replaces it, and finally takes it off again. She is now ready for the other.

I know of an elderly man who married a young girl, and instead of starting at once on his wedding tour he

decided to spend the night in a hotel. Scarcely had they reached the hotel, when he noticed with fright that he

was without his wallet, in which he had the entire sum of money for the wedding tour; he must have mislaid

or lost it. He was still able to reach his servant by telephone; the latter found the missing article in the coat

discarded for the travelling clothes and brought it to the hotel to the waiting bridegroom, who had thus

It is consoling to think that the "losing of objects" by people is merely an unsuspected extension of a

symptomatic action, and is thus welcome at least to the secret intention of the loser. Often it is only an

expression of slight appreciation of the lost article, a secret dislike for the same, or perhaps for the person

from whom it came, or the desire to lose this object was transferred to it from other and more important

objects through symbolic association. The loss of valuable articles serves as an expression of diverse feelings;

it may either symbolically represent a repressed thought that is, it may bring back a memory which one

would rather not hear of it may represent a sacrifice to the obscure forces of fate, the worship of which is

The following examples will illustrate these statements concerning the losing of objects:

Dr. B. Dattner states: "A colleague related to me that he lost his steel pencil which he had had for over two

years, and which, on account of its superior quality, was highly prized by him. Analysis elicited the following

facts: The day before he had received a very disagreeable letter from his brotherinlaw, the concluding

sentence of which read: 'At present I have neither the desire nor the time to assist you in your carelessness

and laziness.' The effect connected with this letter was so powerful that the next day he promptly sacrificed

the pencil which was a present from this brotherinlaw in order not to be burdened with his favours."

Brill reports the following example: "A doctor took exception to the following statement in my book, 'We

never lose what we really want' (Psychanalysis, its Theories and Practical Application, p. 214).� His wife,

who is very interested in psychologic subjects, read with him the chapter on "Psychopathology of Everyday

Life "; they were both very much impressed with the novelty of the ideas, and so on, and were very willing to

accept most of the statements. He could not, however, agree with the abovegiven statement because, as he

said to his wife, 'I surely did not wish to lose my knife.' He referred to a valuable knife given to him by his

"It did not take his wife very long to discover the solution for this loss in a manner to convince them both of

the accuracy of my statement. When she presented him with this knife he was a bit loath to accept it.

Although he considered himself quite emancipated, he nevertheless entertained some superstition about

giving or accepting a knife as a gift, because it is said that a knife cuts friendship. He even remarked this to

his wife, who only laughed at his superstition. He had the knife for years before it disappeared.

"Analysis brought out the fact that the disappearance of the knife was directly connected with a period when

there were violent quarrels between himself and his wife, which threatened to end in separation. They lived

happily together until his stepdaughter (it was his second marriage) came to live with them. His daughter

was the cause of many misunderstandings, and it was at the height of these quarrels that he lost the knife.

"The unconscious activity is very nicely shown in this symptomatic action. In spite of his apparent freedom

from superstition, he still unconsciously believed that a donated knife may cut friendship between the persons

concerned. The losing of it was simply an unconscious defence against losing his wife, and by sacrificing the

In a lengthy discussion and with the aid of dream analysis[7] Otto Rank made clear the sacrificial tendency

with its deepreaching motivation. It must be said that just such symptomatic actions often give us access to

Of the many isolated chanceactions, I will relate one example which showed a deeper meaning even without

analysis. This example clearly explains the conditions under which such symptoms may be produced most

casually, and also shows that an observation of practical importance may be attached to it. During a summer

tour it happened that I had to wait several days at a certain place for the arrival of my travelling companions.

In the meantime I made the acquaintance of a young man, who also seemed lonely and was quite willing to

join me. As we lived at the same hotel it was quite natural that we should take all our meals and our walks

On the afternoon of the third day he suddenly informed me that he expected his wife to arrive on that

evening's express train. My psychologic interest was now aroused, as it had already struck me that morning

that my companion rejected my proposal to make a long excursion, and in our short walk he objected to a

certain path as too steep and dangerous. During our afternoon walk he suddenly thought that I must be hungry

and insisted that I should not delay my evening meal on his account, that he would not sup before his wife's

arrival. I understood the hint and seated myself at the table while he went to the station.

The next morning we met in the foyer of the hotel. He presented me to his wife, and added, "Of course, you

will breakfast with us? " I had to attend first to a small matter in the next street, but assured him that I would

return shortly. Later, as I entered the breakfastroom, I noticed that the couple were at a small table near the

window, both seated on the same side of it. On the opposite side there was only one chair, which was

covered, however, with a man's large and heavy coat. I understood well the meaning of this unintentional,

none the less expressive, disposition of the coat. It meant this: "There is no room for you here, you are

The man did not notice that I remained standing before the table, being unable to take the seat, but his wife

noticed it, and quickly nudged her husband and whispered: "Why, you have covered the gentleman's place

These as well as other similar experiences have caused me to think that the actions executed unintentionally

must inevitably become the source of misunderstanding in human relations. The perpetrator of the act, who is

unaware of any associated intention, takes no account of it, and does not hold himself responsible for it. On

the other hand, the second party, having regularly utilized even such acts as those of his partner to draw

conclusions as to the purpose and meaning, recognizes more of the stranger's psychic processes than the latter

is ready either to admit or believe that he has imparted. He becomes indignant when these conclusions drawn

from his symptomatic actions are held up to him; he declares them baseless because he does not see any

conscious intention in their execution, and complains of being misunderstood by the other. Close examination

shows that such misunderstandings are based on the fact that the person is too fine an observer and

understands too much. The more "nervous" two persons are the more readily will they give each other cause

for disputes, which are based on the fact that one as definitely denies about his own person what he is sure to

And this is, indeed, the punishment for the inner dishonesty to which people grant expression under the guise

of "forgetting," of erroneous actions and accidental emotions, a feeling which they would do better to confess

to themselves and others when they can no longer control it. As a matter of fact it can be generally affirmed

that every one is continually practising psychoanalysis on his neighbours, and consequently learns to know

them better than each individual knows himself. The road following the admonition g n w q i s e a u t o n

[1] "Beitrag zur Symbolik im Alltag von Ernest Jones," Zentralb. f. Psychoanalyse, i. 3, 1911.

[2] Psychoanalytic research, with the penetration of infantile amnesia, has shown that this apparent precocity

[3] The term " medical questions" is a common periphrasis for " sexual questions."

[5] Maeder, "Contribution a la psychologie de la vie quotidienne," Arch. des psychologie, T. vi. 1906.

[6] Here is another small collection of various symptomatic actions in normal and neurotic persons. An

elderly colleague who does not like to lose at cards had to pay one evening a large sum of money in

consequence of his losses; he did this without complaint, but with a peculiar constrained temper. After his

departure it was discovered that he had left at this place practically everything he had with him, spectacles,

cigarcase, and handkerchief. That would be readily translated into the words: "You robbers, you have nicely

plundered me." A man who suffers from occasional sexual impotence, which has its origin in the intimacy of

his infantile relations to his mother, relates that he is in the habit of embellishing pamphlets and notes with an

S, the initial of his mother's name. He cannot bear the idea of having letters from home come in contact with

other unsanctified correspondence, and therefore finds it necessary to keep the former separate. A young

woman suddenly flings open the door of the consultingroom while her predecessor is still present. She

excused herself on the ground of "thoughtlessness"; it soon came to light that she demonstrated her curiosity

which caused her at an earlier time to intrude into the bedroom of her parents. Girls who are proud of their

beautiful hair know so well how to manipulate combs and hairpins, that in the midst of conversation their hair

becomes loosened. During the treatment (in a reclining position) some men scatter change from their pockets

and thus pay for the hour of treatment; the amount scattered is in proportion to their estimation of the work.

Whoever forgets articles in the doctor's office, such as eyeglasses, gloves, handbags, generally indicates that

he cannot tear himself away and is anxious to return soon. Ernest Jones says: "One can almost measure the

success with which a physician is practising psychotherapy, for instance, by the size of the collection of

umbrellas, handkerchiefs, purses, and so on, that he could make in a month. The slightest habits and acts

performed with a minimum of attention, such as the winding of a clock before retiring to sleep, the putting

out of lights before leaving the room, and similar actions, are occasionally subject to disturbances which

clearly demonstrate the influence of the unconscious complex, and what is thought to be the strongest

"habits." In the journal Coenobium, Maeder relates about a hospital physician who, on account of an

important matter, desired to get to the city that evening, although he was on duty and had no right to leave the

hospital. On his return he noticed to his surprise that there was a light in his room. On leaving the room he

had forgotten to put it out, something that had never happened before. But he soon grasped the motive of this

forgetting. The hospital superintendent who lived in the same house must have concluded from the light in

the room that he was at home. A man overburdened with worries and subject to occasional depressions

assured me that he regularly forgot to wind his watch on those evenings when life seemed too hard and

unfriendly. In this omission to wind his watch he symbolically expressed that it was a matter of indifference

to him whether he lived to see the next day. Another man who was personally unknown to me wrote: "Having

been struck by a terrible misfortune, life appeared so harsh and unsympathetic, that I imagined that I had not

sufficient strength to live to see the next day. I then noticed that almost every day I forgot to wind my watch,

something that I never omitted before. I had been in the habit of doing it regularly before retiring in an almost

mechanical and unconscious manner. It was only very seldom that I thought of it, and that happened when I

had something important for the next day which held my interest. "Should this be considered a symptomatic

action? I really cannot explain it." Whoever will take the trouble, like Jung (The Psychology of Dementia

Pr�cox, translated by Peterson and Brill), or Maeder ("Une voie nouvelle en Psychologie Freud et son

ecole," Coenobium, Lugano, 1906), to pay attention to melodies which one hums to himself aimlessly and

unconsciously, will regularly discover the relation of the melody's text to a theme which occupies the person

Errors of memory are distinguished from forgetting and false recollections through one feature only, namely,

that the error false recollection) is not recognized as such but finds credence. However, the use of the

expression "error" seems to depend on still another condition. We speak of "erring�" instead of "falsely

recollecting where the character of the objective reality is emphasized in the psychic material to be

reproduced that is, where something other than a fact of my own psychic life is to be remembered, or

rather something that mat be confirmed or refuted through the memory of others. The reverse of the error in

In my book The Interpretation of Dreams, [1] I was responsible for a series of errors in historical, and above

all, in material facts, which I was astonished to discover after the appearance of the book. On closer

examination I found that they did not originate from my ignorance, but could be traced to errors of memory

(a) On page 361 I indicated as Schiller's birthplace the city of Marburg, a name which recurs in Styria. The

error is found in the analysis of a dream during a night journey from which I was awakened by the conductor

calling out the name of the station Marburg. In the contents of the dream inquiry is made concerning a book

by Schiller. But Schiller was not born in the university town of Marburg but in the Swabian city Marbach. I

(b) On page 165 Hannibal's father is called Hasdrubal. This error was particularly annoying to me, but it was

most corroborative of my conception of such errors. Few readers of the book are better posted on the history

of the Barkides than the author who wrote this error and overlooked it in three proofs. The name of

Hannibal's father was Hamilcar Barkas; Hasdrubal was the name of Hannibal's brother as well as that of his

This horror I have erroneously advanced by a generation; according to Greek mythology it was Kronos who

How is it to be explained that my memory furnished me with false material on these points, while it usually

places the most remote and unusual material at my disposal, as the readers of my books can verify? And,

what is more, in three carefully executed proofreadings I passed over these errors as if struck blind.

Goethe said of Lichtenberg: "Where he cracks a joke, there lies a concealed problem." Similarly we can

affirm of these passages cited from my book: back of every error is a repression. More accurately stated: the

error conceals a falsehood, disfigurement which is ultimately based on repressed material. In the analysis of

the dreams there reported, I was compelled by the very nature of the theme to which the dream thoughts

related, on the one hand, to break off the analysis in some places before it had reached its completion, and on

the other hand, to remove an indiscreet detail through a slight disfigurement of its outline. I could not act

differently, and had no other choice if I was at all to offer examples and illustrations. My constrained position

was necessarily brought about by the peculiarity of dreams, which give expression to repressed thoughts, or

to material which is incapable of becoming conscious. In spite of this it is said that enough material remained

to offend the more sensitive souls. The disfigurement or concealment of the continuing thoughts known to me

could not be accomplished without leaving some trace. What I wished to repress has often against my will

obtruded itself on what I have taken up, and evinced itself in the matter as an unnoticeable error. Indeed, each

of the three examples given is based on the same theme: the errors are the results of repressed thoughts which

(ad a) Whoever reads through the dream analysed on page 361 will find some parts unveiled; in some parts he

will be able to divine through allusions that I have broken off the thoughts which would have contained an

unfavourable criticism of my father. In the continuation of this line of thoughts and memories there lies an

annoying tale, in which books and a business friend of my father, named Marburg, play a part; it is the same

name the calling out of which in the southern railwaystation had aroused me from sleep. I wished to

suppress this Mr. Marburg in the analysis from myself and my readers: he avenged himself by intruding

where he did not belong, and changed the name of Schiller's birthplace from Marbach to Marburg.

(ad b) The error Hasdrubal in place of Hamilcar, the name of the brother instead of that of the father,

originated from an association which dealt with the Hannibal fantasies of my college years and my

dissatisfaction with the conduct of my father towards the "enemies of our people." I could have continued and

recounted how my attitude toward my father was changed by a visit to England, where I made the

acquaintance of my halfbrother, by a previous marriage of my father. My brother's oldest son was my age

exactly. Thus the age relations were no hindrance to a fantasy which may be stated thus: how much

pleasanter it would be had I been born the son of my brother instead of the son of my father! This suppressed

fantasy then falsified the text of my book at the point where I broke off the analysis, by forcing me to put the

(ad c) The influence of the memory of this same brother is responsible for my having advanced by a

generation the mythological horror of the Greek deities. One of the admonitions of my brother has lingered

long in my memory. " Do not forget one thing concerning your conduct in life," he said: " you belong not to

the second but really to the third generation of your father." Our father had remarried at an advanced age, and

was therefore an old man to his children by the second marriage. I commit the error mentioned where I

Several times friends and patients have called my attention to the fact that in reporting their dreams or

alluding to them in dream analyses, I have related inaccurately the circumstances experienced by us in

common. These are also historic errors. On reexamining such individual cases I have found that my

recollection of the facts was unreliable only where I had purposely disfigured or concealed something in the

analysis. Here again we have an unobserved error as a substitute for an intentional concealment or repression.

From these errors, which originate from repression, we must sharply distinguish those which are based on

actual ignorance. Thus, for example, it was ignorance when on my excursion a to Wachau I believed that I

had passed the restingplace of the revolutionary leader Fischof. Only the name is common to both places.

Here is another embarrassing but instructive error, an example of temporary ignorance if you like. One day a

patient reminded me to give him the two books on Venice which I had promised him, as he wished to use

them in planning his Easter tour. I answered that I had them ready and went into the library to fetch them,

though the truth of the matter was that I had forgotten to look them up, since I did not quite approve of my

patient's journey, looking upon it as an unnecessary interruption to the treatment, and as a material loss to the

One was Venedig als Kunstst�tte, and besides this I imagined I had an historic work of a similar order.

Certainly there was Die Mediceer (The Medicis); I took them and brought them in to him, then, embarrassed,

I confessed my error. Of course I really knew that the Medicis had nothing: to do with Venice, but for a short

time it did not appear to me at all incorrect. Now I was compelled to practise justice; as I had so frequently

interpreted my patient's symptomatic actions I could save my prestige only by, being honest and admitting to

It may cause general astonishment to learn how much stronger is the impulse to tell the truth than is usually

supposed. Perhaps it is a result of my occupation with psychoanalysis that I can scarcely lie any more. As

often as I attempt a distortion I succumb to an error or some other faulty act, which betrays my dishonesty, as

Of all faulty actions the mechanisms of the error seems to be the most superficial. That is, the occurrence of

the error invariably indicates that the mental activity concerned had to struggle with some disturbing

influence, although the nature of the error need not be determined but the quality of the disturbing idea,

which may have remained obscure. It is not out of place to add that the same state of affairs may be assumed

in many simple cases of lapses in speaking and writing. Every time we commit a lapse in speaking or writing

we may conclude that through mental processes there has come a disturbance which is beyond our intention.

It may be conceded, however, that lapses in speaking and writing often follow the laws of similarity and

convenience, or the tendency to acceleration, without allowing the disturbing element to leave a trace of its

own character in the error resulting from the lapses in speaking or writing. It is the responsiveness of the

linguistic material which at first makes possible the determination of the error, but it also limits the same.

In order not to confine myself exclusively to personal errors I will relate a few examples which could just as

well have been ranged under "Lapses in Speech" or under "Erroneously Carriedout Actions," but as ah these

(a) I forbade a patient to speak on the telephone to his ladylove, with whom he himself was willing to break

off all relations, as each conversation only renewed the struggling against it. He was to write her his final

decision, although there were some difficulties in the way of delivering the letter to her. He visited me at one

o'clock to tell me that he had found a way of avoiding these difficulties, and among other things he asked me

At two o'clock while he. was engaged in com posing the letter of refusal, he interrupted himself suddenly,

and said to his mother, "Well, I have forgotten to ask the Professor whether I may use his name in the letter."

He hurried to the telephone, got the connection, and asked the question, "May I speak to the Professor after

his dinner?" In answer he got an astonished "Adolf, have you gone crazy I " The answering voice was the

very voice which at my command he had listened to for the last time. He had simply "made a mistake," and in

(b) During a summer vacation a schoolteacher, a poor but excellent young man, courted the daughter of a

summer resident, until the girl fell passionately in love with him, and even prevailed upon her family to

countenance the matri monial alliance in spite of the difference in position and race. One day, however, the

teacher wrote his brother a letter in which he said: "Pretty, the lass is not at all, but she is very amiable, and so

far so good. But whether I can make up my mind to marry a Jewess I cannot yet tell." This letter got into the

hands of the fianc�e, who put an end to the engagement, while at the same time his brother was wondering at

the protestations of love directed to him. My informer assured me that this was really an error and not a

I am familiar with another case, in which a woman who was dissatisfied with her old physician, and still did

not openly wish to discharge him, accomplished this purpose through the interchange of letters. Here, at least,

I can assert confidently that it was error and not conscious cunning that made use, of this familiar

name. Her attention having been directed to this error, she had to admit that she disliked her friend's husband

Maeder[4] relates a good example of how a reluctantly repressed wish can be satisfied by means of an

"error." A colleague wanted to enjoy his day of leave of absence absolutely undisturbed, but he, also felt that

he ought to go to Lucerne to pay a call which he did not anticipate with any pleasure. After long reflection,

however, he concluded to go. For pastime on the train he, read the daily newspapers. He journeyed from

Zurich to Arth Goldau, where he changed trains for Lucerne, all the time engrossed in reading. Presently the

conductor informed him that he was in the wrong train that is, he had got into the one which was returning

A very similar trick was played by me quite recently. I had promised my oldest brother to pay him a

longdue visit at a seashore in England; as the time was short I felt obliged to travel by the shortest route

and without interruption. I begged for a day's sojourn in Holland, but he thought that I could stop there on my

return trip. Accordingly I journeyed from Munich through Cologne to Rotterdam Hook of Holland

where I was to take the steamer at midnight to Harwich. In Cologne I had to change cars; I left my train to go

into the Rotterdam express, but it was not to be found. I asked various railway employees, was sent from one

platform to another, got into an exaggerated state of despair, and could easily reckon that during this fruitless

After this was corroborated, I pondered whether or not I should spend the night in Cologne. This was

favoured by a feeling of piety, for according to an old family tradition, my ancestors were once expelled from

this city during a persecution of the Jews. But eventually I came to another decision; I took a later train to

Rotterdam, where I arrived late at night and was thus compelled to spend a day in Holland. This brought me

the fulfilment of a longfostered wish the sight of the beautiful Rembrandt paintings at The Hague and in

the Royal Museum at Amsterdam. Not before the next forenoon, while collecting my impressions during the

railway journey in England, did I definitely remember that only a few steps from the place where I got off at

the railroad station in Cologne, indeed, on the same platform, I had seen a large sign, "Rotterdam Hook of

If one does not wish to assume that, contrary to my brother's orders, I had really resolved to admire the

Rembrandt pictures on my way to him, then the fact that despite clear directions I hurried away and looked

for another train must be designated as an incomprehensible "blinding." Everything else my wellacted

perplexity, the emergence of the pious intention to spend the night in Cologne was only a contrivance to

One may possibly be disinclined to consider the class of errors which I have here explained as very numerous

or particularly significant. But I leave it to your consideration whether there is no ground for extending the

same points of view also to the more important errors of judgment, as evinced by people in life and science.

Only for the most select and most balanced minds does it seem; possible to guard the perceived picture of

external reality against the distortion to which it is otherwise subjected in its transit through the psychic

individuality of the transit through the psychic individuality of the one perceiving it.

[1] Translated by A. A. Brill. The Macmillan Company, New York; George Allen Company, London.

[2] This is not a perfect error. According to the orphic version of the myth the emasculation was performed

Two of the lastmentioned examples, my error which transfers the Medici to Venice and that of the young

man who knew how to circumvent a command against a conversation on the telephone with his lady love,

have really not been fully discussed, as after careful consideration they may be shown to represent a union of

forgetting with an error. I can show the same union still more clearly in certain other examples .

(a) A friend related to me the following experience: "Some years ago I consented to be elected to the

committee of a certain literary; society, as I supposed the organization might some time be of use to me in

assisting me in the production of my drama. Although not much interested, I attended the meetings regularly

every Friday. Some months ago I was definitely assured that one of my dramas would be presented at the

theatre in F., and since that time it regularly happened that I forgot the meeting of the association. As I read

their programme announcements I was ashamed of my forgetfulness. I reproached myself, feeling that it was

certainly rude of me to stay away now when I no longer needed them, and determined that I would certainly

not forget the next Friday. Continually I reminded myself of this resolution until the hour came and I stood

before the door of the meetingroom. To my astonishment it was locked; the meeting: was already over. I

(b) The next example is the combination of a symptomatic action with a case of mislaying; it reached me by,

A woman travelled to Rome with her brotherinlaw, a renowned artist. The visitor was highly honoured by

the German residents of Rome, and among other things received a gold medal of antique origin. The woman

was grieved that her brotherinlaw did not sufficiently appreciate the value of this beautiful gift. After she

had returned home she discovered in unpacking that without knowing how she had brought the medal

home with her. She immediately notified her brotherinlaw of this by letter, and informed him that she

would send it back to Rome the next day. The next day, however, the medal was so aptly mislaid that it could

not be found and could not be sent back, and then it dawned on the woman what her "absentmindedness"

Due to unknown motives, Jones I left a letter[1] for several days on his desk, forgetting each time to post it.

He ultimately posted it, but it was returned to him from the Deadletter Office because he forgot to address

it. After addressing and posting it a second time it was again returned to him, this time without a stamp. He

was then forced to recognize the unconscious opposition to the sending of the letter.

(d) A short account by Dr. Karl Weiss (Vienna) [2] of a case of forgetting impressively describes the futile

effort to accomplish something in the face of opposition. "How persistently the unconscious activity can

achieve its purpose if it has cause to prevent a resolution from being executed, and how difficult it is to guard

against this tendency, will be illustrated by the following incident: An acquaintance requested me to lend

him: a book and bring it to him the next day. I immediately promised it, but perceived a distinct feeling of

displeasure which I could not explain at the time. Later it became clear to me: this acquaintance had owed me

for years a sum of money which he evidently had no intention of returning. I did not give this matter any

more thought, but I recalled it the following: forenoon with the same feeling of displeasure, and at once said

to myself: 'Your unconscious will see to it that you forget the book, but you don't wish to appear unobliging

and will therefore do everything not to forget it.' I came home, wrapped the book in paper, and put it near me

"A little later I went away, but after a few steps I recollected that I had left on the desk the letters which I

wished to post. (By, the way, one of the letters was written to a person who urged me to undertake something

disagreeable.) I returned, took the letters, and again left. While in the streetcar it occurred to me that I had

undertaken to purchase something for my: wife, and I was pleased at the thought that it would be only a small

package. The association 'small package,' suddenly recalled 'book' and only then I noticed that I did not

have the book with me. Not only had I forgotten it when I left my home the first time, but I had overlooked it

(e) A similar mechanism is shown in the following fully analysed observation of Otto Rank[3]:

"A scrupulously orderly and pedantically precise man reported the following occurrence, which he

considered quite remarkable: One afternoon on the street wishing to find out the time, he discovered that he

had left his watch at home, an omission which to his knowledge had never occurred before. As he had an

engagement elsewhere and had not enough time to return for his watch, he made use of a visit to a woman

friend to borrow her watch for the evening. This was the most convenient way out of the dilemma, as he had

a previous engagement to visit this lady the next day. Accordingly, he promised to return her watch at that

"But the following day when about to consummate this he found to his surprise that he had left the watch at

home; his own watch he had with him. He then firmly, resolved to return the lady's property that same

afternoon, and even followed out his resolution. But on wishing to see the time on leaving her he found to his

"The repetition of this faulty action seemed so pathologic to this orderloving man that he was quite anxious

to know its psychologic motiva tion, and when questioned whether he experienced anything disagreeable on

the critical day of the first forgetting, and in what connection it had occurred, the motive was promptly found.

He related that he had conversed with his mother after luncheon, shortly before leaving the house. She told

him that an irresponsible relative, who had already caused him much worry and loss of money, had pawned

his (the relative's) watch, and, as it was needed in the house, the relative had asked for money to redeem it.

This almost "forced" loan affected our man very painfully and brought back to his memory all the

"His symptomatic action therefore proves to be manifoldly determined. First, it gives expression to a stream

of thought which runs perhaps as follows: 'I won't allow my money to be extorted this way, and if a watch is

needed I will leave my own at home.' But as he needed it for the evening to keep his appointment, this

intention could only be brought about on an unconscious path in the form of a symptomatic action. Second,

the forgetting expresses a sentiment something like the following: 'This everlasting sacrificing of money for

this goodfornothing is bound to ruin me altogether, so that I will have to give up everything.' Although the

anger, according to the report of this man, was only momentary, the repetition of the same symptomatic

action conclusively shows that in the unconscious it continued to act more intensely, and may be equivalent

to the conscious expression: 'I cannot get this story out of my head.[4] That the lady's watch should later meet

the same fate will not surprise us after knowing this attitude of the unconscious.'

"Yet there may be still other special motives which favour the transference on the 'innocent' lady's watch. The

nearest motive is probably that he would have liked to keep it as a substitute for his own sacrificed watch, and

that hence he forgot to return it the next day. He also might have liked to possess this watch as a souvenir of

the lady. Moreover, the forgetting of the lady's watch gave him the excuse for calling on the admired one a

second time; for he was obliged to visit her in the morning in reference to another matter, and with the

forgetting of the watch he seemed to indicate that this visit for which an appointment had been made so long

"Twice forgetting his own watch and thus making possible the substitution of the lady's watch speaks for the

fact that our man unconsciously endeavoured to avoid carrying both watches at the same time. He obviously

thought of avoiding the appearance of superfluity which would have stood out in striking contrast to the want

of the relative; but, on the other hand, he utilized this as a selfadmonition against his apparent intention to

marry this lady, reminding himself that he was tied to his family (mother) by indissoluble obligations.

"Finally, another reason for the forgetting of the lady's watch may be sought in the fact that the evening

before he, a bachelor, was ashamed to be seen with a lady's watch by his friends, so that he only looked at it

stealthily, and in order to evade the repetition of this painful situation he could not take the watch along. But

as he was obliged to return it, there resulted here, too, an unconsciously performed symptomatic action which

proved to be a compromise formation between conflicting emotional feelings and a dearly bought victory of

In the same discussion Rank has also paid attention to the very interesting! relation of "faulty actions and

dreams," which cannot, however, be followed here without a comprehensive analysis of the dream with

which the faulty action is connected. I once dreamed at great length that I had lost my pocketbook. In the

morning while dressing I actually missed it; while undressing the night before the dream I had forgotten to

take it out of my trousers pocket and put it in its usual place, This forgetting was therefore not unknown to

me; probably it was to give expression to an unconscious thought which was ready to appear in the dream

I do not mean to assert that such cases of combined faulty actions can teach anything new that we have not

already seen in the individual cases. But this change in form of the faulty action, which nevertheless attains

the same result, gives the plastic impression of a will working towards a definite end, and in a far more

energetic way contradicts the idea that the faulty action represents something: fortuitous and requires no

explanation. Not less remarkable is the fact that the conscious intention thoroughly fails to check the success

of the faulty, action. Despite all, my friend did not pay his visit to the meeting of the literary society, and the

woman found it impossible to give up the medal. That unconscious something which worked against these

resolutions found another outlet after the first road was closed to it. It requires something other than the

conscious counterresolution to overcome the unknown motive ; it requires a psychic work which makes the

[4] This continued action in the unconscious manifested itself once in the form of a dream which followed the

faulty action, another time in the repetition of the same or in the omission of a correction.

As the general result of the preceding separate discussions we must put down the following principle: Certain

inadequacies of our psychic capacities whose common character will soon be more definitely determined

and certain performances which are apparently unintentional prove to be well motivated when subjected

to the psychoanalytic investigation, and are determined through the consciousness of unknown motives.

In order to belong to this class of phenomena thus explained a faulty psychic action must satisfy the

(a) It must not exceed a certain measure which is firmly established through our estimation, and is designated

(b) It must evince the character of the momentary and temporary disturbance. The same action must have

been previously performed more correctly or we must always rely on our selves to perform it more

correctly; if we are corrected by others we must immediately recognize the truth of the correction and the

must attempt to explain it through "inattention" or attribute it to an "accident."

Thus there remain in this group the cases of forgetting and the errors, despite better knowledge, the lapses in

speaking, reading, writing, the erroneously carriedout actions, and the socalled chance actions. The

explanations of these so definite psychic processes are connected with a series of observations which may in

I. By abandoning a part of our psychic capacity as unexplainable through purposive ideas we ignore the

realms of determinism in our mental life. Here, as in still other spheres, determinism reaches farther than we

suppose. In the year 1900 I read an essay published in the Zeit written by the literary historian R. M. Meyer,

in which he maintains, and illustrates by examples, that it is impossible to compose nonsense intentionally

and arbitrarily, For some time I have been aware that it is impossible to think of a number, or even of a name,

of one's own free will. If one investigates this seeming voluntary formation, let us say, of a number of many

digits uttered in unrestrained mirth, it always proves to be so strictly determined that the determination seems

impossible. I will now briefly discuss an example of an "arbitrarily chosen" first name, and then exhaustively

While preparing the history of one of my patients for publication I considered what first name I should give

her in the article. There seemed to be a wide choice; of course, certain names were at once excluded by me, in

the first place the real name, then the names of members of my family to which I would have objected, also

some female names having an especially peculiar pronunciation. But, excluding these, there should have been

no need of being puzzled about such a name. It would be thought, and I myself supposed, that a whole

multitude of feminine names would be placed at my disposal. Instead of this only one sprang up, no other

I inquired as to its determination: "Who else is called Doral?" I wished to reject the next idea as incredulous;

it occurred to me that the nurse of my sister's children was named Dora. But I possess so much .selfcontrol,

or practice in analysis, if you like, that I held firmly to the idea and proceeded. Then a slight incident of the

previous evening soon flashed through my mind which brought the lookedfor determination. On my sister's

diningroom table I noticed a letter bearing the address, "Miss Rosa W." Astonished, I asked whose name

this was, and was informed that the right name of the supposed Dora was really Rosa, and that on accepting

the position she had to lay; aside her name, because Rosa would also refer to my sister. I said pityingly, "Poor

people! They cannot even retain their own names!" I now recall that on hearing this I became quiet for a

moment and began to think of all sorts of serious matters which merged into the obscure, but which I could

now easily bring; into my consciousness. Thus when I sought a name for a person who could not retain her

own name no other except "Dora" occurred to me. The exclusiveness here is based, moreover, on firmer

internal associations, for in the history of my patient it was a stranger in the house, the governess, who

This slight incident found its unexpected: continuation many years later. While discussing in a lecture the

longsince published history; of the girl called Dora it occurred to me that one of my two women pupils had

the very name Dora which I was obliged to utter so often in the different associations of the case. I turned to

the young student, whom I knew personally, with the apology that I had really not thought that she bore the

I was now confronted with the task of rapidly choosing another name, and reflected that I must not now

choose the first name of the other woman student, and so set a poor example to the class, who were already

quite conversant with psychoanalysis. I was therefore well pleased when the name "Erna" occurred to me as

the substitute for Dora, and Erna I used in the discourse. After the lecture I asked myself whence the name

"Erna" could possibly have originated, and had to laugh as I observed that the feared possibility in the choice

of the substitutive name had come to pass, in part at least. The other lady's family name was Lucerna, of

In a letter to a friend I informed him that I had finished reading the proofsheets of The Interpretation of

Dreams, and that I did not intend to make any further changes in it, "even if it contained 2,467 mistakes." I

immediately attempted to explain to myself the number, and added this little analysis as a postscript to the

letter. It will be best to quote it now as I wrote it when I caught myself in this transaction:

"I will add hastily another contribution to the Psychopathology of Everyday Life. You will find in the letter

the number 2,467 as a jocose and arbitrary estimation of the number of errors that may be found in the

dreambook. I meant to write: no matter how large the number might be, and this one presented itself. But

there is nothing arbitrary or undetermined in the psychic life. You will therefore rightly suppose that the

unconscious hastened to determine the number which was liberated by consciousness. Just previous to this I

had read in the paper that General E. M. had been retired as InspectorGeneral of Ordnance. You must know

that I am interested in this man. While I was serving as military medical student he, then a colonel, once came

into the hospital and said to the physician: 'You must make me well in eight days, as I have some work to do

"At that time I decided to follow this man's career, and just think, today (1899) he is at the end of it

InspectorGeneral of Ordnance and already retired. I wished to figure out in what time he had covered this

road, and assumed that I had seen him in the hospital in 1882. That would make 17 years. I related this to my

wife, and she remarked, 'Then you, too, should be retired.' And I protested, 'The Lord forbid!' After this

conversation I seated myself at the table to write to you. The previous train of thought continued, and for

good reason. The figuring was incorrect; I had a definite recollection of the circumstances in my mind. I had

celebrated my coming of my 24th birthday, in the military prison (for being absent without permission).

Therefore I must have seen him in 1880, which makes it 19 years ago. You then have the number 24 in

2,467! Now take the number that represents my age, 43, and add 24 years to it and you get 67! That is, to the

question whether I wished to retire I had expressed the wish to work 24 years more. Obviously I am annoyed

that in the interval during which I followed Colonel M. I have not accomplished much myself, and still there

is a sort of triumph in the fact that he is already finished, while I still have all before me. Thus we may justly

say that not even the unintentionally thrownout number 2,467 lacks its determination from the

Since this first example of the interpretation of an apparently arbitrary choice of a number I have repeated a

similar test with the same result; but most cases are of such intimate content that they do not lend themselves

It is for this reason that I shall not hesitate to add here a very interesting analysis of a "chance number" which

Dr. Alfred Adler (Vienna) received from a "perfectly healthy" man.[1] A. wrote to me: "Last night I devoted

myself to the Psychopathology of Everyday Life, and I would have read it all through had I not been hindered

by a remarkable coincidence. When I read that every number that we apparently conjure up quite arbitrarily

in our consciousness has a definite meaning, I decided to test it. The number 1,734 occurred to my mind. The

following associations then came up: 1,734 � 17 = 102; 102 � 17 = 6. I then separated the number into 17 and

34. I am 34 years old. .. I believe that I once told you that I consider34 the last year of youth, and for this

reason I felt miserable on my last birthday. The end of my 17th year was the beginning of a very nice and

interesting period of my development. I divide my life into period of 17 years. That do the divisions signify?

The number 102 recalls the fact that volume 102 Of the Reclam Universal Library is Kotzebue's play

"My present psychic state is 'human hatred and repentance.' No. 6 of the U. L. (I know a great many numbers

by heart) is Mullner's 'Schuld' (Fault). I am constantly annoyed at the thought that it is through my own fault

"I then asked myself, 'What is No. 17 of U. L.?' But I could not recall it. But as I positively knew it before, I

assumed that I wished to forget this number. All reflection was in vain. I wished to continue with my reading,

but I read only mechanically without understanding a word, for I was annoyed by the number 17. I

extinguished the light and :continued my search. It finally came to me that number 17 must be a play by

Shakespeare. But which one! I thought of Hero and Leander. Apparently a stupid attempt of my will to

distract me. I finally arose and consulted the catalogue of the U. L. Number 17 was Macbeth! To my surprise

I had to discover that I knew nothing of the play, despite the fact that it did not interest me any less than any

other Shakespearean drama. I only thought of murder, Lady Macbeth, witches, 'nice is ugly,' and that I found

Schiller's version of Macbeth very nice. Undoubtedly I also wished to forget the play. Then it occurred to me

that 17 and 34 may be divided by 17 and result in 1 and 2. Numbers 1 and 2 of the U. L. is Goethe's Faust.

We must regret that the discretion of the physician did not allow us to see the significance of ideas. Adler

remarked that the man did not succeed in the synthesis of his analysis. His association would hardly be worth

reporting un less their continuation would bring out something that would give us the key to the

To quote further: "To be sure this morning I had an experience which speaks much for the correctness of the

Freudian conception. My wife, whom I awakened through my getting up at night, asked me what I wanted

with the catalogue of the U. L. I told her the story. She found it all pettifogging but very interesting;.

Macbeth, which caused me so much trouble, she simply passed over. She said that nothing came to her mind

when she thought of a number. I answered, 'Let us try; it.' She named the number 117� To this I immediately;

replied: '17 refers to what I just told you; furthermore, I told you yesterday that if a wife is in the 82nd year

and the husband is in the 35th year it must be a gross misunderstanding.' For the last few days I have been

teasing my wife by maintaining that she was a little old mother of 82 years. 82 + 35 = 117."

The man who did not know how to determine his own number at once found the solution when his wife

named a number which was apparently arbitrarily chosen. As a matter of fact, the woman understood very

well from which complex the number of her husband originated, and chose her own number from the same

complex, which surely common it, both, as it dealt in his case with their relative ages. Now, we find it easy to

interpret the number that occurred to the man. As Dr, Adler indicates, it expressed 'a repressed wish of the

husband which, fully developed, would read: "For a man of 34 years as I am, only a woman of 17 would be

Lest one should think too lightly of such "playing," I will add that I was recently informed by Dr. Adler that a

year after the publication of this analysis the man was divorced from his wife.[2]

Adler gives a similar explanation for the origin of obsessive numbers. Also the choice of socalled "favourite

numbers" is not without relation to the life of the person concerned, and does not lack a certain psychologic

interest. A gentleman who evinced a particular partiality for the numbers 17 and 19 could specify, after brief

reflection, that at the age of 17 he attained the greatly longedfor academic freedom by having been admitted

to the university, that at 19 he made his first long journey, and shortly thereafter made his first scientific

discovery. But the fixation of this preference followed later, after two questionable affairs, when the same

Indeed, even those numbers which we use in a particular connection extremely often and with apparent

arbitrariness can be traced by analysis to an unexpected meaning. Thus, one day it struck one of my patients

that he was particularly fond of saying, "I have already told you this from 17 to 36 times." And he asked

himself whether there was any motive for it. It soon occurred to him that he was born on the 27th day of the

month, and that his younger brother was born on the 26th day of another month, and he had grounds for

complaint that Fate had robbed him of so many of the benefits of life only to bestow them on his younger

brother. Thus he represented this partiality of Fate by deducting 10 from the date of his birth and adding it to

I shall tarry a little longer at the analysis of chance numbers, for I know of no other individual observation

which would so readily demonstrate the existence of highly organized thinking processes of which

consciousness has no knowledge. Moreover, there is no better example of analysis in which the suggestion of

the position, a frequent accusation, is so distinctly out of consideration. I shall therefore report the analysis of

a chance number of one of my patients (with his consent), to which I will only add that he is the youngest of

While in a particularly happy mood he let the number 426,718 come to his mind, and put to himself the

question, "Well, what does it bring to your mind?" First came a joke he had heard: "If your catarrh of the nose

is treated by a doctor it lasts 42 days, if it is not treated it lasts 6 weeks." This corresponds to the first digit

of the number (42 = 6 x 7). During the obstruction that followed this first solution I called his attention to the

fact that the number of six digits selected by him contains all the first numbers except 3 and 5. He at once

"We were altogether 7 children, I was the youngest. Number 3 in the order of the children corresponds to my

sister A., and 5 to my brother L.; both of them were my enemies. As a child I used to pray to the Lord every

night that He should take out of my life these two tormenting spirits. It seems to me that I have fulfilled for

myself this wish: '3' and '5,' the evil brother and the hated sister, are omitted."

"If the number stands for your sisters and brothers, what significance is there to 18 at the end? You were

"I often thought if my father had lived longer I should not have been the youngest child. If one more would

have come, we should have been 8, and there would have been a younger child, toward whom I could have

With this the number was explained, but we still wished to find the connection between the first part of the

interpretation and the part following it. This came very readily from the condition required for the last digits

if the father had lived longer. 42 = 6 x 7 signifies the ridicule directed against the doctors who could not

help the father, and in this way expresses the wish for the continued existence of the father. The whole

number really corresponds to the fulfilment of his two wishes in reference to his family circle namely, that

both the evil brother and sister should die and that another little child should follow him. Or, briefly

Another analysis of numbers I take from Jones.[4] A gentleman of his acquaintance let the number 986 come

to his mind, and defied him to connect it to anything of special interest in his mind. "Six years ago, on the

hottest day he could remember, he had seen a joke in an evening newspaper, which stated that the

thermometer had stood at 98.6� F., evidently an exaggeration of 98.6� F.[sic] We were at the time seated in

front of a very hot fire, from which he had just drawn back, and he remarked, probably quite correctly, that

the heat had aroused his dormant memory. However, I was curious to know why this memory had persisted

with such vividness as to be so readily brought out, for with most people it surely would have been forgotten

beyond recall, unless it had become associated with some other mental experience of more significance .

"He told me that on reading: the joke he had laughed uproariously, and that on many subsequent occasions he

had recalled it with great relish. As the joke was obviously of an exceedingly tenuous nature, this

strengthened my expectation that more lay behind. His next thought was the general reflection that the

conception of heat had always greatly impressed him, that heat was the most important thing in the universe,

the source of all life, and so on. This remarkable attitude of a quite prosaic young man certainly needed some

explanation, so I asked him to continue his free associations. The next thought was of a factory stack which

he could see from his bedroom window. He often stood of an evening watching the flame and smoke issuing

out of it, and reflecting on this deplorable waste of energy. Heat, flame, the source of life, the waste of vital

energy issuing from an upright, hollow tube it was not hard to divine from such associations that the ideas

of heat and fire were unconsciously linked in his mind with the idea of love, as is so frequent in symbolic

thinking, and that there was a strong masturbation complex present, a conclusion that he presently

Those who wish to get a good impression of the way the material of numbers becomes elaborated in the

In personal analysis of this kind two things were especially striking. First, the absolute somnambulistic

certainty with which I attacked the unknown objective point, merging into a mathematical train of thought,

which later suddenly extended to the lookedfor number, and the rapidity with which the entire subsequent

work was performed. Secondly, the fact that the numbers were always at the disposal of my unconscious

mind, when as a matter of fact I am a poor mathematician and find it very difficult to consciously recall

years, house numbers, and the like. Moreover, in these unconscious mental operations with figures I found a

It will not surprise us to find that not only numbers but also mental occurrences of different kinds of words

Brill relates: "While working on the English edition of this book I was obsessed one morning with the strange

word 'Cardillac.' Busily intent on my work, I refused at first to pay attention to it, but, as is usually the case, I

simply could not do anything else. 'Cardillac' was constantly in my mind. Realizing that my refusal to

recognize it was only a resistance, I decided to analyse it. The following associations occurred to me:

"Cardiac recalled cardalgia heartache a medical friend who had recently told me confidentially that he

feared that he had some cardiac affection because he had suffered some attacks of pain in the region of his

heart. Knowing him so well, I at once rejected his theory, and told him that his attacks were of a neurotic

character, and that his other apparent physical ailments were also only the expression of his neurosis.

''I might add that just before telling me of his heart trouble he spoke of a business matter of vital interest to

him which had suddenly come to naught. Being a man of unbounded ambitions, he was very depressed

because of late he had suffered many similar reverses. His neurotic conflicts, however, had become manifest

a few months before this misfortune. Soon after his father's death had left a big business on his hands. As the

business could be continued only under my friend's management, he was unable to decide whether to enter

into commercial life or continue his chosen career. His great ambition was to become a successful medical

practitioner, and although he had practised medicine successfully for many years, he was not altogether

satisfied with the financial fluctuations of his professional income. On the other hand, his father's business

promised him an assured, though limited, return. In brief, he was 'at a crossing and did not know which way

"I then recalled the word carrefour, which is the French for 'crossing,' and it occurred to me that while

working in a hospital in Paris I lived near the 'Carrefour St. Lazarre.' And now I could understand what

"When I resolved to leave the State Hospital I made the decision, first, because I desired to get married, and,

secondly, because I wished to enter private practice. This brought up a new problem. Although my State

hospital service was an absolute success, judging by promo tions and so on, I felt like a great many others in

the same situation, namely, that my training was ill suited for private practice. To specialize in mental work

was a daring undertaking for one without money and social connections. I also felt that the best I could do for

patients should they ever come my way would be to commit them to one of the hospitals, as I had little

confidence in the home treatment in vogue. In spite of the enormous advances made in recent years in mental

work, the specialist is almost helpless when he is confronted with the average case of insanity. This may be

partially attributed to the fact that such cases are brought to him after they have fully developed the psychosis

when hospital treatment is imperative. Of the great army of milder mental disturbances, the socalled

borderline cases, which make up the bulk of clinic and private work and which rightfully belong to the

mental specialist, I knew very little, as those patients rarely, or never, came to the State hospital, and what I

did know concerning the treatment of neurasthenia and psychasthenia was not conducive to make me more

"It was in this state of mind that I came to Paris, where I hoped to learn enough about the psychoneuroses to

enable me to continue my specialty in private practice, and yet feel that I could do something for my patients.

What I saw in Paris did not, however, help to change my state of mind. There, too, most of the work was

directed to dead tissues. The mental aspects, as such, received but scant attention. I was, therefore, seriously

thinking of giving up my mental work for some other specialty. As can be seen, I was confronted with a

situation similar to the one of my medical friend. I, too, was at a crossing and did not know which way to

turn. My suspense was soon ended. One day, I received a letter from my friend Professor Peterson, who, by

the way, was responsible for my entering the State hospital service. In this letter he advised me not to give up

my work, and suggested the psychiatric clinic of Zurich, where he thought I could find what I desired.

"But what does Cadillac mean? Cadillac is the name of a hotel and of an automobile. A few days before in a

country place my medical friend and I had been trying to hire an automobile, but there was none to be had.

We both expressed the wish to own an automobile again an unrealized ambition. I also recalled that the

'Carrefour St. Lazarre' always impressed me as being one of the busiest thoroughfares in Paris. It was always

congested with automobiles. Cadillac also recalled that only a few days ago on the way to my clinic I noticed

a large sign over a building which announced that on a certain day 'this building was to be occupied by the

Cadillac,' etc. This at first made me think of the Cadillac Hotel, but on second sight I noticed that it referred

to the Cadillac motorcar. There was a sudden obstruction here for a few moments. The word Cadillac

reappeared and by sound association the word catalogue occurred to me. This word brought back a very

mortifying occurrence of recent origin, the motive of which is again blighted ambition.

"When one wishes to report any autoanalysis he must be prepared to lay bare many intimate affairs of his

own life. Any one reading carefully Professor Freud's works cannot fail to become intimately acquainted with

him and his family. I have often been asked by persons who claim to have read and studied Freud's works

such questions as: 'How old is Freud?' 'Is Freud married?' 'How many children has he?' etc. Whenever I hear

these or similar questions I know that the questioner has either lied when he made these assertions, or, to be

more charitable, that he is a very careless and superficial reader. All these questions and many more are

answered in Freud's works. Autoanalyses are autobiographies par excellence; but whereas the

autobiographer may for definite reasons consciously and unconsciously hide many facts of his life, the

autoanalyst not only tells the truth consciously, but perforce brings to light his whole intimate personality. It

is for these reasons that one finds it very unpleasant to report his own autoanalyses. However, as we often

report our patients' unconscious productions, it is but fair that we should sacrifice ourselves on the altar of

publicity when occasion demands. This is my apology for having thrust some of my personal affairs on the

"Before digressing with the last remarks I mentioned that the word Cadillac brought the sound association

catalogue. This association brought back another important epoch in my life with which Professor Peterson is

connected. Last May I was informed by the secretary of the faculty that I was appointed chief of clinic of the

department of psychiatry. I need hardly say that I was exceedingly pleased to be so honoured in the first

place because it was the realization of an ambition which I dared entertain only under special euphoric states;

and, secondly, it was a compensation for the many unmerited criticisms from those who are blindly and

unreasonably opposing some of my work. Soon thereafter I called on the stenographer of the faculty and

spoke to her about a correction to be made in my name as it was printed in the catalogue. For some unknown

reason (perhaps racial prejudice) this stenographer, a maiden lady, must have taken a dislike to me. For about

three years I repeatedly requested her to have this correction made, but she had paid no attention to me. To be

"When I saw her last May I again reminded her of this correction, and also called her attention to the fact that

as I had been appointed chief of clinic I was especially anxious to have my name correctly printed in the

catalogue. She apologized for her remissness and assured me that everything should be as I requested.

Imagine my surprise and chagrin when on receiving the new catalogue I found that while the correction had

been made in my name I was not listed as chief of clinic. When I asked her about this she was quite puzzled;

she said she had no idea that I had been appointed chief of clinic. She had to consult the minutes of the

faculty, written by herself, before she was convinced of it. It should be noted that as recorder to the faculty it

was her duty to know all these things as soon as they transpired.[7] When she finally ascertained that I was

right she was very apologetic and informed me that she would at once write to the superintendent of the clinic

to inform him of my appointment, something which she should have done months before. Of course I gained

nothing by her regrets and apologies. The catalogue was published and those who read it did not find my

name in the desired place. I am chief of clinic in fact but not in name. Moreover, as the appointments are

made only for one year, it is quite likely that my great ambition will never be actually realized.

"Thus the obsessive neologism cardillac, which is a condensation of cardiac, Cadillac, and catalogue,

contains some of the most important efforts of my medical experience. When I was almost at the end of this

analysis I suddenly recalled a dream containing this neologism cardillac in which my wish was realized. My

name appeared in its rightful place in the catalogue. The person who showed it to me in the dream was

Professor Peterson. It was when I was at the first 'crossing' after I had graduated from the medical college that

Professor Peterson urged me to enter the hospital service. About five years later while I was in the state of

indecision which I have described, it was Professor Peterson who advised me to go to the clinic of psychiatry

at Zurich where through Bleuler and Jung I first became acquainted with Professor Freud and his works, and

it was also through the kind recommendation of Dr. Peterson that I was elevated to my present position."

I am indebted to Dr. Hitschman for the solution of another case in which a line of poetry repeatedly obtruded

itself on the mind in a certain place without showing any trace of its origin and relation.

Related by Dr. E.: "Six years ago I travelled from Biarritz to San Sebastian. The railroad crosses over the

Bidassao a river which here forms the boundary between France and Spain. On the bridge one has a

splendid view, on the one side of the broad valley and the Pyrenees and on the other of the sea. It was a

beautiful, bright summer day; everything was filled with sun and light. I was on a vacation and pleased with

my trip to Spain. Suddenly the following words came to me: 'But the soul is already free, floating on a sea of

"At that time I was trying to remember where these lines came from, but I could not remember; judging by

the rhythm, the words must be a part of some poem, which, however, entirely escaped my memory. Later

when the verse repeatedly came to my mind, I asked many people about it without receiving any information.

"Last year I crossed the same bridge on my return journey from Spain. It was a very dark night and it rained. I

looked through the window to ascertain whether we had already reached the frontier station and noticed that

we were on the Bidassao bridge. Immediately the above cited verse returned to my memory and again I

"At home many months later I found Uhland's poems. I opened the volume and my glance fell upon the

verse: 'But the soul is already free, floating on a sea of light,' which were the concluding lines of the poem

entitled 'The Pilgrim.' I read the poem and dimly recalled that I had known it many years ago. The scene of

action is in Spain, and this seemed to me to be the only relation between the quoted verse and the place on the

railroad journey described by me. I was only half satisfied with my discovery and mechanically continued to

turn the pages of the book. On turning the next page I found a poem the title of which was 'Bidassao Bridge.'

"I may add that the contents of this poem seemed even stranger to me than that of the first, and that its first

"'On the Bidassao bridge stands a saint grey with age, he blesses to the right the Spanish mountain, to the left

II. This understanding of the determination of apparently arbitrarily selected names, numbers, and words may

perhaps contribute to the solution of another problem. As is known, many persons argue against the

assumption of an absolute psychic determinism by referring to an intense feeling of conviction that there is a

free will. This feeling of conviction exists, but is not incompatible with the belief in determinism. Like all

normal feelings, it must be justified by something. But, so far as I can observe, it does not manifest itself in

weighty and important decisions; on these occasions one has much more the feeling of a psychic compulsion

and gladly falls back upon it. (Compare Luther's "Here I stand, I cannot do anything else.")

On the other hand, it is in trivial and indifferent decisions that one feels sure that he could just as easily have

acted differently, that he acted of his own free will, and without any motives. From our analyses we therefore

need not contest the right of the feeling of conviction that there is a free will. If we distinguish conscious

from unconscious motivation we are then informed by the feeling of conviction that the conscious motivation

does not extend over all our motor resolutions. Minima non curat pr�tor. What is thus left free from the one

side receives its motive from the other side, from the unconscious, and the determinism in the psychic realm

III. Although conscious thought must be altogether ignorant of the motivation of the faulty actions described

above, yet it would be desirable to discover a psychologic proof of its existence; indeed, reasons obtained

through a deeper knowledge of the unconscious make it probable that such proofs are to be discovered

somewhere. As a matter of fact phenomena can be demonstrated in two spheres which seem to correspond to

(a) It is a striking and generally to be recognized feature in the behaviour of paranoiacs, that they attach the

greatest significance to the trivial details in the behaviour of others. Details which are usually overlooked by

others they interpret and utilize as the basis of farreaching conclusions. For example, the last paranoiac seen

by me concluded that there was a general understanding among people of his environment, because at his

departure from the railwaystation they made a certain motion with one hand. Another noticed how people

The category of the accidental, requiring no motivation, which the normal person lets pass as a part of his

own psychic activities and faulty actions, is thus rejected by the paranoiac in the application to the psychic

manifestations to others. All that he observes in others is full of meaning, all is explainable. But how does he

come to look at it in this manner? Probably here as in so many other cases, he projects into the mental life of

others what exists in his own unconscious activity. Many things obtrude themselves on consciousness in

paranoia which in normal and neurotic persons can only be demonstrated through psychoanalysis as existing

in their unconscious.[10] In a certain sense the paranoiac is here justified, he perceives something that

escapes the normal person, he sees clearer than one of normal intellectual capacity, but his knowledge

becomes worthless when he imputes to others the state of affairs he thus recognizes. I hope that I shall not be

expected to justify every paranoic interpretation. But the point which we grant to paranoia in this conception

of chance actions will facilitate for us the psychologic understanding of the conviction which the paranoiac

attaches to all these interpretations. There is certainly same truth to it; even our errors of judgment, which are

not designated as morbid, acquire their feeling of conviction in the same way. This feeling is justified for a

certain part of the erroneous train of thought or for the source of its origin, and we shall later extend to it the

(b) The phenomena of superstition furnish another indication of the unconscious motivation in chance and

faulty actions. I will make myself clear through the discussion of a simple experience which gave me the

Having returned from vacation, my thoughts immediately turned to the patients with whom I was to occupy

myself in the beginning of my year's work. My first visit was to a very old woman (see above) for whom I

had twice daily performed the same professional services for many years. Owing to this monotony

unconscious thoughts have often found expression on the way to the patient and during my occupation with

her. She was over ninety years old; it was therefore pertinent to ask oneself at the beginning of each year how

On the day of which I speak I was hurry and took a carriage to her house. Every coachman at the cabstand

near my house knew the old woman's address, as each of them had often driven me there. This day it

happened that the driver did not stop in front of her house, but before one of the same number in a nearby

and really similarlooking parallel street. I noticed the mistake and reproached the coachman, who

Is it of any significance when I am taken to a house where the old woman is not to be found? Certainly not to

me; but were I superstitious, I should see an omen in this incident, a hint of fate that this would be the last

year for the old woman. A great many omens which have been preserved by history have been founded on no

better symbolism. Of course, I explain the incident as an accident without further meaning. The case would

have been entirely different had I come on foot and, "absorbed in thought " or "through distraction," I had

gone to the house in the parallel street instead of the correct one. I would not explain that as an accident, but

as an action with unconscious intent requiring inter pretation. My explanation of this "lapse in walking"

would probably be that I expected that the time would soon come when I should not meet the old woman any

I do not believe that an occurrence in which my mental life takes no part can teach me anything hidden

concerning the future shaping of reality; but I do believe that an unintentional manifestation of my own

mental activity surely contains something concealed which belongs only to my mental life that is, I

believe in outer (real) chance, but not in inner (psychic) accidents. With the superstitious person the case is

reversed: he knows nothing of the motive of his chance and faulty actions; he believes in the existence of

psychic contingencies; he is therefore inclined to attribute meaning to external chance, which manifests itself

in actual occurrence, and to see in the accident a means of expression for something hidden outside of him.

There are two differences between me and the superstitious person: first, he projects the motive to the to the

outside, while I look for it in myself; second, he explains the accident by an event which I trace to a thought.

What he considers hidden corresponds to the unconscious with me, and the compulsion not to let chance pass

as chance, but to explain it as common to both of us. Thus I admit that this conscious ignorance and

unconscious knowledge of the motivation of psychic accidentalness is one of the psychic roots of

superstition. Because the superstitious person knows nothing of the motivation of his own accidental actions,

and because the fact of this motivation strives for a place in his recognition, he is compelled to dispose of

them by displacing them into the outer world. If such a connection exists it can hardly be limited to this

single case. As a matter of fact, I believe that a large portion of the mythological conception of the world

which reaches far into the most modern religions is nothing but psychology projected into the outer world.

The dim perception (the endopsychic perception, as it were) of psychic factors and relations[11] of the

unconscious was taken as a model in the construction of a transcendental reality, which is destined to be

It is difficult to express it in other terms; the analogy to paranoia must here come to our aid. We venture to

explain in this way the myths of paradise and the fall of man, of God, of good and evil, of immortality, and

the like that is, to transform metaphysics into metapsychblogy. The gap between the paranoiac's

displacement and that of superstition is narrower than appears at first sight. When human beings began to

think, they were obviously compelled to explain the outer world in an anthropomorphic sense by a multitude

of personalities in their own image; the accidents which they explained superstitiously were thus actions and

expressions of persons. In that regard they behaved just like paranoiacs, who draw conclusions from

insignificant signs which others give them, and like all normal persons who justly take the unintentional

actions of their fellowbeings as a basis for 'the estimation of their characters. Only in our modern

philosophical, but by no means finished, views of life does superstition seem so much out of place: in the

view of life of prescientific times and nations it was justified and consistent.

The Roman who gave up an important undertaking because he sighted an illomened flock of birds was

relatively right; his action was consistent with his principles. But if he withdrew from an undertaking because

he had stumbled on his threshold (un Romain retournerait), he was absolutely superior even to us unbelievers.

He was a better psychologist than we are striving to become. For his stumbling could demonstrate to him the

existence of a doubt, an internal countercurrent the force of which could weaken the power of his intention

at the moment of its execution. For only by concentrating all psychic forces on the desired aim can one be

assured of perfect success. How does Schiller's Tell, who hesitated so long to shoot the apple from his son's

head, answer the bailiff's question why he had provided himself with a second arrow!

"With the second arrow I would have pierced you had I struck my dear child and; truly, I should not have

IV. Whoever has had the opportunity of studying the concealed psychic feelings of persons by means of

psychoanalysis can also tell something new concerning the quality of unconscious motives, which express

themselves in superstition. Nervous persons afflicted with compulsive thinking and compulsive states, who

are often very intelligent, show very plainly that superstition originates from repressed hostile and cruel

impulses. The greater part of superstition signifies fear of impending evil, and he who has frequently wished

evil to others, but because of a good bringingup has repressed the same into the unconscious, will be

particularly apt to expect punishment for such unconscious evil in the form of a misfortune threatening him:

If we concede that we have by no means exhausted the psychology of superstition in these remarks, we must,

on the other hand, at least touch upon the question whether real roots of superstition should be altogether

denied, whether there are really no omens, prophetic dreams, telepathic experiences, manifestations of

supernatural forces, and the like. I am now far from willing to repudiate without anything further all these

phenomena, concerning which we possess so many minute observations even from men of intellectual

prominence, and which should certainly form a basis for further investigation. We map even hope that some

of these observations will be explained by our present knowledge of the unconscious psychic processes

without necessitating radical changes in our present aspect. If still other phenomena, as, for example, those

maintained by the spiritualists, should be proven, we should then consider the modification of our "laws" as

demanded by the new experience, without becoming confused in regard to the relation of things of this world.

In the sphere of these analyses I can only answer the questions here proposed subjectively that is, in

accordance with my personal experience. I am sorry to confess chat I belong to that class of unworthy

individuals before whom the spirits cease their activities and the supernatural disappears, so that I have never

been in position to experience anything personally that would stimulate belief in the miraculous. Like

everybody else, I have had forebodings and ex perienced misfortunes; but the two evaded each other, so that

nothing followed the foreboding, and the misfortune struck me unannounced. When as a young man I lived

alone in a strange city I frequently heard my name suddenly pronounced by an unmistakable, dear voice, and

I then made a note of the exact moment of the hallucination in order to inquire carefully of those at home

what had occurred at that time. There was nothing to it. On the other hand, I later worked among my patients

calmly and without foreboding while my child almost bled to death. Nor have I ever been able to recognize as

The belief in prophetic dreams numbers many adherents, because it can be supported by the fact that some

things really so happen in the future as they were previously foretold by the wish of the dream. But in this

there is little to be wondered at, as many farreaching deviations may be regularly demonstrated between a

A nice example, one which may be justly called prophetic was once brought to me for exhaustive analysts by

an intelligent and truthloving patient. She related that she once dreamed that she had met a former friend

and family physician in front of a certain store in a certain street, and next morning when she went down

town she actually met him at the place named in the dream. I may observe that the significance of this

wonderful coincidence was not proven to be due to any subsequent event that is, it could not be justified

Careful examination definitely established the fact that there was no proof that the woman recalled the dream

in the morning following the night of the dream that is, before the walk and before the meeting. She could

offer no objection when this state of affairs was presented in a manner that robbed this episode of everything

miraculous, leaving only an interesting psychologic problem. One morning she had walked through this very

street, had met her old family physician before that certain store, and on seeing him received the conviction

The analysis then showed with great probability how she came to this conviction, to which, in accordance

with the general rule, we cannot deny a certain right to credence. A meeting at a definite place following a

previous expectation really describes the fact of a rendezvous. The old family physician awakened her

memory of old times, when meetings with a third person, also a friend of the physician, were of marked

significance to her. Since that time she had continued her relations with this gentleman, and the day before

the mentioned dream she had waited for him in vain. If I could report in greater detail the circumstances here

before us, I could easily show that the illusion of the prophetic dream at the sight of the friend of former

times is perchance equivalent to the following speech: "Ah, doctor, you now remind me of bygone times,

I have observed in myself a simple and easily explained example, which is probably a good model for similar

occurrences of those familiar "remarkable coincidences" wherein we meet a person of whom we were just

thinking. During a walk through the inner city a few days after the title of "Professor" was bestowed on me,

which carries with it a great deal of prestige even in monarchical cities, my thoughts suddenly merged into a

childish revengefantasy against a certain married couple. Some months previous they had called me to see

their little daughter who suffered from' an interesting compulsive manifestation following the appearance of a

dream. I took a great interest in the case, the genesis of which I believed I could surmise, but the parents were

unfavourable to my treatment, and gave me to understand that they thought of applying to a foreign authority

who cured by means of hypnotism. I now fancied that after the failure of this attempt, the parents begged me

to resume my treatment, that they now had full confidence in me, etc. But I answered: "Now that I have

become a professor, you have confidence in me. The title has made no change in my ability; if you could not

use me when I was instructor you can get along without me now that I am! a professor." At this point my

fantasy was interrupted by a loud "Good evening, Professor!" and as I looked up there passed me the same

The next reflection destroyed the semblance of the miraculous. I was walking towards this couple on a

straight, almost deserted street; glancing up hastily at a distance of perhaps twenty steps from me, I had spied

and realized their stately personalities; but this perception, following the model of a negative hallucination,

was set aside by certain emotionally accentuated motives and then asserted itself in the apparently

A similar experience is related by Brill, which also throws some light on the nature of telepathy.

"While engrossed in conversation during our customary Sunday evening dinner at one of the large New York

restaurants, I suddenly stopped and irrelevantly remarked to my wife, 'I wonder how Dr. R. is doing in

Pittsburg.' She looked at me much astonished and said: 'Why, that is exactly what I have been thinking for the

last few seconds! Either you have transferred this thought to me or I have transferred it to you. How can you

otherwise explain this strange phenomenon?' I had to admit that I could offer no solution. Our conversation

throughout the dinner showed not the remotest association to Dr. R., nor, so far as our memories went, had

we heard or spoken of him for some time. Being a sceptic, I refused to admit that there was anything

mysterious about it, although inwardly I felt quite uncertain. To be frank, I was somewhat mystified.

"But we did not remain very long in this state of mind, for on looking toward the cloakroom we were

surprised to see Dr. R. Though closer inspection showed our mistake, we were both struck by the remarkable

resemblance of this stranger to Dr. R. From the position of the cloakroom we were forced to conclude that

this stranger had passed our table. Absorbed in our conversation, we had not noticed him consciously, but the

visual image had stirred up the association of his double, Dr. R. That we should both have experienced the

same thought is also quite natural. The last word from our friend was to the effect that he had taken up private

practice in Pittsburg, and, being aware of the vicissi tudes that beset the beginner, it was quite natural to

"What promised to be a supernatural manifestation was thus easily explained on a normal basis; but had we

not noticed the stranger before he left the restaurant, it would have been impossible to exclude the

mysterious. I venture to say that such simple mechanisms are at the bottom of the most complicated

telepathic manifestations; at least, such has been my experience in all cases accessible to investigation."

"Some time ago I had experienced a remarkable variation of that peculiar coincidence wherein one meets a

person who has just been occupying one's thoughts. Shortly before Christmas I went to the AustroHungarian

Bank in order to obtain ten new silver crownpieces destined for Christmas gifts. Absorbed in ambitious

fantasies which dealt with the contrast of my meagre means to the enormous sums in the bankinghouse, I

turned into the narrow street to the bank. In front of the door I saw an automobile and many people going in

and out. I thought to myself: 'The officials will have plenty of time for my new crowns; naturally I shall be

quick about it; I shall put down the paper notes to be exchanged, and say, "Please give me gold."' I realized

"I was now only a few steps front the entrance, and noticed a young man coming toward me who looked

familiar, but whom I could not definitely identify on account of my shortsightedness. As he came nearer I

recognized him as a classmate of my brother whose name was Gold and from whose brother, a wellknown

journalist, I had great expectations in the beginning of my literary career. But these expectations had not

materialized, and with them had vanished the hopedfor material success with which my fantasies were

occupying; themselves on my way to the bank. Thus engrossed I must have unconsciously perceived the

approach of Mr. Gold, who impressed himself on my conscience while I was dreaming of material success,

and thereby caused me to ask the cashier for gold instead of the inferior silver. But, on the other hand, the

paradoxical fact that my unconscious was able to perceive an object long before it was recognized by the eye

might in part be explained by the complex readiness (Komplexbereitschaft) of Bleuler. For my mind was

attuned to the material, and, contrary to my better knowledge, it guided my steps from the very beginning to

To the category of the wonderful and uncanny we may also add that strange feeling we perceive in certain

moments and situations when it seems as if we had already had exactly the same experience, or had

previously found ourselves in the same situation. Yet we are never successful in our efforts to recall clearly;

those former experiences and situations. I know that I follow only the loose colloquial expression when I

designate that which stimulates us in such moments as a "feeling." We undoubtedly deal with a judgment,

and, indeed, with a judgment of cognition; but these cases, nevertheless, have a character peculiar to

themselves, and besides, we must not ignore the fact that we never recall what we are seeking.

I do not know whether this phenomenon of D�j� vu was ever seriously offered as a proof of a former psychic

existence of the individual; but it is certain that psychologists have taken an interest in it, and have attempted

to solve the riddle in a multitude of speculative ways. None of the proposed tentative explanations seems

right to me, because none takes account of anything but the accompanying manifestations and the favouring

conditions of the phenomenon. Those psychic processes which, according to my observation, are alone

responsible for the explanation of the D�j� vu namely, the unconscious fantasies are generally

I believe that it is wrong to designate the feeling of having experienced something before as an illusion. On

the contrary, in such moments something is really touched that we have already experienced, only we cannot

consciously recall the latter because it never was conscious. In short, the feeling D�j� vu corresponds to the

memory of an unconscious fantasy. There are unconscious fantasies (or day dreams) just as there are similar

I realize that the object is worthy of most minute study, but I will here give the analysis of only one case of

D�j� vu in which the feeling was characterized by particular intensity and persistence. A woman of

thirtyseven years asserted that she most distinctly remembered that at the age of twelve and a half she paid

her first visit to some school friends in the country, and as she entered the garden she immediately had the

feeling of having been there before. This feeling was repeated as she went through the livingrooms, so that

she believed she knew beforehand how big the next room was, what views one could have on looking out of

it, etc. But the belief that this feeling of recognition might have its source in a previous visit to the house and

garden, perhaps a visit paid in earliest childhood, was absolutely excluded and disproved by statements from

her parents. The woman who related this sought no psychologic explanation, but saw in the appearance of

this feeling a prophetic reference to the importance which these friends later assumed in her emotional life.

On taking into consideration, however, the circumstance under which this phenomenon presented itself to

When she decided upon this visit she knew that these girls had an only brother, who was seriously ill. In the

course of the visit she actually saw him. She found him looking very badly, and thought to herself that he

would soon die. But it happened that her own only brother had had a serious attack of diphtheria some

months before, and during his illness she had lived for weeks with relatives far from her parental home. She

believed that her brother was taking part in this visit to the country, imagined even that this was his first long

journey since his illness; still, her memory was remarkably indistinct in regard to these points, whereas all

other details, and particularly the dress which she wore that day, remained most clearly before her eyes.

To the initiated it will not be difficult to conclude from these suggestions that the expectation of her brother's

death had played a great part in the girl's mind at that time, and that either it never became conscious or it was

more energetically repressed after the favourable issue of' the illness. Under other circumstances she would

have been compelled to wear another dress namely, mourning clothes. She found the analogous situation

in her friends' home; their only: brother was in danger of an early death, an event that really came to pass a

short time after. She might have consciously remembered that she lived through a similar situation a few

months previous, but instead of recalling what was inhibited through repression she transferred the memory

feeling to the locality, to the garden and the house, and merged it into the fausse reconnaissance that she had

From the fact of the repression we may conclude that the former expectation of the death of her brother was

not far from evincing the character of a wishfantasy. She would then have become the only: child. In her

later neurosis she suffered in the most intense manner from the fear of losing her parents, behind which the

My own experience of D�j� vu I can trace in a similar manner to the emotional constellation of the moment.

It may he expressed as follows: "That would be another occasion for awakening certain fantasies

(unconscious and unknown) which were formed in me at one time or another as a wish to improve my

V. Recently when I had occasion to recite to a colleague of a philosophical turn of mind some examples of

nameforgetting, with their analyses, he hastened to reply: "That is all very well, but with me the forgetting

of a name proceeds in a different manner." Evidently one cannot dismiss this question as simply as that; I do

not believe that my colleague had ever thought of an analysis for the forgetting of a name, nor could he say

how the process differed in him. But his remark, nevertheless, touches upon a problem which many would be

inclined to place in the foreground. Does the solution given for faulty and chance actions apply in general or

only in particular cases, and if only in the latter, what are the conditions under which it may also be employed

In answer to this question my experiences leave me in the lurch. I can only urge against considering the

demonstrated connections as rare, for as often as I have made the test in myself and with my patients it was

always definitely demonstrated exactly as in the examples reported, or there were at least good reasons to

assume this. One should not be surprise, however, when one does not succeed every time in finding the

concealed meaning of he symptomatic action, as the amount of inner resistances ranging themselves against

the solution must be considered a deciding factor. Also, it is not always possible to explain every individual

dream of one's self of patients. To substantiate the general validity of the theory, it is enough if one can

penetrate only a certain distance into the hidden associations. The dream which proves refractory when the

solution is attempted on the following day can often be robbed of its secret a week or a month later, when the

psychic factors combating one another have been reduced as a consequence of a real change that has

meanwhile taken place. The same applies to the solution of faulty and symptomatic actions. It would

therefore be wrong to affirm of all cases which resist analysis that they are caused by another psychic

mechanism than that here revealed; such assumption requires more than negative proofs; moreover, the

readiness to believe in a difference explanation of faulty and symptomatic actions, which probably exists

universally in all normal persons, does not prove anything; it is obviously an expression of the same psychic

forces which produced the secret, which therefore strives to protect and struggle against its elucidation.

On the other hand, we must not overlook the fact that the repressed thoughts and feelings are not independent

in attaining expression in symptomatic and faulty actions. The technical possibility for such an adjustment of

the innervations must be furnished independently of them, and this is then gladly utilized by the intention of

the repressed material to come to conscious expression. In the case of linguistic faulty actions an attempt has

been made by philosophers and philologists to verify through minute observations what structural and

functional relations enter into the service of such intention. If in the determinations of faulty and symptomatic

actions we separate the unconscious motive from its coactive physiological and psychophysical relations,

the question remains open whether there are still other factors within normal limits which, like the

unconscious motive, and in its place can produce faulty and symptomatic actions on the road of the relations.

VI. Since the discussion of speech blunders we have been content to demonstrate that faulty actions have a

concealed motive, and through the aid of psychoanalysis we have traced our way to the knowledge of their

motivation. The general nature and the peculiarities of the psychic factors brought to expression in these

faulty actions we have hitherto left almost without consideration; at any rate, we have not attempted to define

them more accurately or to examine into their lawfulness. Nor will we now attempt a thorough elucidation of

the subject, as the first steps have already taught us that it is more feasible to enter this structure from another

side. Here we can put before ourselves certain questions which I will cite in their order. (1) What is the

content and the origin of the thoughts and feelings ;which show; themselves through faulty and chance

actions? (2) What are the conditions which force a thought or a feeling to make use of these occurrences as a

means of expression and place it in a position to do sol (3) Can constant and definite associations be

demonstrated between the manner of the faulty action and the qualities brought to expression through it.

I shall begin by bringing together some material for answering the last question. In the discussion of the

examples of speech blunders we found it necessary to go beyond the contents of the intended speech, and we

had to seek the cause of the speech disturbance outside the intention. The latter was quite clear in a series of

cases, and as known to the consciousness of the speaker. In the example that seemed most simple and

transparent it was a similar sounding but different conception of the same thought, which disturbed its

expression without any one being able to say why the one succumbed and the other came to the surface

In a second group of cases one conception succumbed to a motive which did not, however, prove strong

enough to cause complete submersion. The conception which was withheld was clearly presented to

Only of the third group can we affirm unreservedly that the disturbing thought differed from the one

intended, and it is obvious that it may establish an essential distinction. The disturbing thought is either

connected with the disturbed on through a thought association (disturbance through inner contradiction), or it

is substantially strange to it, and just the disturbed word is connected with the disturbing thought through a

In the examples which I have given from my psychoanalyses it is found that the entire speech is either under

the influence of thoughts which have become active simultaneously, or under absolutely unconscious

thoughts which betray themselves either through the disturbance itself, or which evince an indirect influence

by making it possible for the individual parts of the unconsciously intended speech to disturb one another.

The retained unconscious thoughts from which the disturbances in speech emanate are of most varied origin.

Comparative examinations of examples of mistakes in reading and writing lead me to the same conclusions.

Isolated cases, as in speech blunders, seem to owe their origin to an unmotivated work of condensation (e.g.,

the Apel). But we should be pleased to know whether special conditions must not be fulfilled in order that

such condensation, which is considered regular in the dreamwork and faulty in our waking thoughts, should

take place. No information concerning this can be obtained from the examples themselves. But I merely

refuse from this to draw the conclusion that there are no such conditions, as, for instance, the relaxation of

conscious attention; for I have learned elsewhere that automatic actions are especially characterized by

correctness and reliability. I would rather emphasize the fact that here, as so frequently in biology, it is the

normal relations, or those approaching the normal, that are less favourable objects for investigation than the

pathological. What remains obscure in the explanation of these most simple disturbances will, according to

my expectation, be made clear through the explanation of more serious disturbances.

Also mistakes in reading and writing do not lack examples in which more remote and more complicated

There is no doubt that the disturbances of the speech functions occur more easily and make less demand on

But one is on different ground when it comes to the examination of forgetting in the literal sense i.e., the

forgetting of past experiences. (To distinguish this forgetting from the others we designate sensu strictiori the

forgetting of proper names and foreign words, as in Chapters I and II, as "slips"; and the forgetting of

resolutions as "omissions.") The principal conditions of the normal process in forgetting are unknown.[14]

We are also reminded of the fact that not all is forgotten which we believe to be. Our explanation here deals

only with those cases in which the forgetting arouses our astonishment, in so far as it infringes the rule that

the unimportant is forgotten, while the important matter is guarded by memory. Analysis of these examples

of forgetting is always an unwillingness to recall something which may evoke painful feelings. We may

come to the conjecture that this motive universally strives for expression in psychic life, but is inhibited

through other and contrary forces from regularly manifesting itself. The extent and significance of this dislike

to recall painful impressions seems worthy of the most painstaking psychologic investigation. The question

as to what special conditions render possible the universally resistant forgetting in individual cases cannot be

A different factor steps into the foreground in the forgetting of resolutions; the supposed conflict resulting in

the repression of the painful memory becomes tangible, and in the analysis of the examples one regularly

recognizes a counterwill which opposes but does not put an end to the resolution. As in previously discussed

faulty act, we here also recognize two types of the psychic process: the counterwill either turns directly

against the resolution (in intentions of some consequence) or it is substantially foreign to the resolution itself

and establishes its connection with it through an outer association (in almost indifferent resolutions).

The same conflict governs the phenomena of erroneously carriedout actions. The impulse which manifests

itself in the disturbances of the action is frequently a counterimpulse. Still oftener it is altogether a strange

impulse which only utilizes the opportunity to express itself through a disturbance in the execution of the

action. The cases in which the disturbance is the result of an inner contradiction are the most significant ones,

The inner conflict in the chance or symptomatic actions then merges into the background. Those motor

expressions which are least thought of, or are entirely overlooked by consciousness, serve as the expression

of numerous unconscious or restrained feelings. For the most part they represent symbolically wishes and

phantoms. The first question (as to the origin of the thoughts and emotions which find expression in faulty

actions) we can answer by saying that in a series of cases the origin of the disturbing thoughts can be readily

traced to repressed emotions of the psychic life. Even in healthy persons egotistic, jealous and hostile feelings

and impulses, burdened by the pressure of moral education, often utilize the path of faulty actions to express

in some way their undeniably existing force which is not recognized by the higher psychic instances.

Allowing these faulty and chance actions to continue corresponds in great part to a comfortable toleration of

the unmoral. The manifold sexual currents play no insignificant part m these repressed feelings. That they

appear so seldom in the thoughts revealed by the analyses of my examples is simply a matter of coincidence.

As I have undertaken the analyses of numerous examples from my own psychic life, the selection was partial

from the first, and aimed at the exclusion of sexual matters. At other times it seemed that the disturbing

We have now reached the answer to the second question that is, what psychologic conditions are

responsible for the fact that a thought must seek expression not in its complete form but, as it were, in

parasitic form, as a modification and disturbance of another. From the most striking examples of faulty

actions it is quite obvious that this determinant should be sought in a relation to conscious capacity, or in the

more or less firmly pronounced character of the "repressed" material. But an examination of this series of

examples shows that this character consists of many indistinct elements. The tendency to overlook something

because it is wearisome, or because the concerned thought does not really belong to the intended matter

these feelings seem to play the same r�le as motives for the suppression of a thought (which later depends for

expression on the disturbance of another), as the moral condemnation of a rebellious emotional feeling, or as

the origin of absolutely unconscious trains of thought. An insight into the general nature of the condition of

However, this investigation gives us one single significant fact; the more harmless the motivation of the

faulty act the less obnoxious, and hence less incapable of consciousness, the thought to which it gives

expression is; the easier also becomes the solution of the phenomenon after we have turned our attention

toward it. The simplest cases of speech blunders are immediately noticed and instantaneously corrected.

Where one deals with motivation through actually repressed feelings the solution requires a painstaking

analysis, which may sometimes strike against difficulties or turn out unsuccessful.

One is therefore justified in taking the result of this last investigation as an indication of the fact that the

satisfactory explanation of the psychologic determinations of faulty and chance actions is to be acquired in

another way and from another source. The indulgent reader can therefore see in these discussions the

demonstration of the surfaces of fracture in which this theme was quite artificially. evolved from a broader

VII. Just a few words to indicate the direction of this broader connection. The mechanism of the faulty and

chance actions, as we have learned to know it through the application of analysis, shows in the most essential

points an agreement with the mechanism of dream formation, which I have discussed in the chapter "The

Dream Work" of my book on the interpretation of dreams. Here, as there, one finds the condensation and

compromise formation ("contaminations"); in addition the situation is much the same, since unconscious

thoughts find expression as modifications of other thoughts in unusual ways and through outer associations.

The incongruities, absurdities, and errors in the dream content by virtue of which the dream is scarcely

recognized as a psychic achievement originate in the same way to be sure, through freer usage of the

existing material as the common error of our everyday life; here, as there, the appearance of the incorrect

function is explained through the peculiar interference of two or more correct actions.

An important conclusion call be drawn from this combination: the peculiar mode of operation, whose most

striking function we recognize in the dream content, should not be adjudged only to the sleeping state of the

psychic life when we possess abundant proof of its activity during the waking state in the form of faulty

actions. The same connection also forbids us assuming that these psychic processes which impress us as

abnormal and strange are determined by deepseated decay of psychic activity or by morbid state of

The correct understanding of this strange psychic work which allows the faulty actions to originate like the

dream pictures will only be possible after we have discovered that the psychoneurotic symptoms, particularly

the psychic formations of hysteria and compulsion neurosis, repeat in their mechanisms all the essential

features of this mode of operation. The continuation of our investigation would therefore have to begin at this

There is still another special interest for us in considering the faulty, chance, and symptomatic actions in the

light of this last analogy. If we compare them to the function of the psychoneuroses and the neurotic

symptoms, two frequently recurring statements gain in sense and supportnamely, that the borderline

between the nervous, normal, and abnormal states is indistinct, and that we are all slightly nervous.

Regardless of all medical experience, one may construe various types of such barely suggested nervousness,

the formes frustes of the neuroses. There may, ;be cases in which only a few symptoms appear, or they may

manifest themselves rarely or in mild forms; the extenuation may be transferred to the number; intensity, or

to the temporal outbreak of the morbid manifestation. It may also happen that just this type, which forms the

most frequent transition between health and disease, may never be discovered. The transition type, whose

morbid manifestations come in the form of faulty and symptomatic actions, is characterized by the fact that

the symptoms are transformed to the least important psychic activities, while everything that can lay claim to

a higher psychic value remains free from disturbance. When the symptoms are disposed of in a reverse

manner that is, when they appear in the most important individual and social activities in a manner to

disturb the functions of nourishment and sexual relations, professional and social life such disposition is

found in the severe cases of neuroses, and is perhaps more characteristic of the latter than the multiformity or

But the common character of the mildest as well as the severest cases, to which the faulty and chance actions

contribute, lies in the ability to refer the phenomena to unwelcome, repressed, psychic material, which,

though pushed away from consciousness, is nevertheless not robbed of all capacity to express itself.

[1] Alfred Adler, "Drei Psychoanalysen von Zahlen einf�llen und obsedierenden Zahlen," Psych. Neur.

[2] As an explanation of Macbeth, No. 17 of the U. L., I was informed by Dr. Adler that in his seventeenth

year this man had joined an anarchistic society whose aim was regicide. Probably this is why he forgot the

content of the play Macbeth. The same person invented at that time a secret code in which numbers

[3] For the sake of simplicity I have omitted some of the not less suitable thoughts of the patients.

[5]. "Ein Beitrag zur Kenntnis des Zahlentraumes," Zentralb. f. Psychoanalyse, i. 12.

[7] This is another excellent example showing how a conscious intention was powerless to counteract an

[8] These conceptions of strict determinism in seemingly arbitrary actions have already borne rich fruit for

psychology perhaps also for the administration of justice. Bleuler and Jung have in this way made

intelligible the reaction in the socalled association experiments, wherein the test person answers to a given

word with one occurring to him (stimulusword reaction), while the time elapsing between the stimulus word

and answer is measured (reactiontime). Jung has shown in his Diagnostische Assoziationsstudien, 1906,

what fine reagents for psychic occurrences we possess in this associationexperiment. Three students of

criminology, H. Gross, of Prague, and Wertheimer and Kiein, have developed from these experiments a

technique for the diagnosis of facts (TatbestandsDiagnostik) in criminal cases, the examination of which is

[9] Proceeding from other points of view, this interpretation of the trivial and accidental by the patient has

[10] For example, the fantasies of the hysterical regarding sexual and cruel abuse which are made conscious

by analysis often correspond in every detail with the complaints of persecuted paranoiacs. It is remarkable but

not altogether unexpected that we also meet the identical content as reality in the contrivances of perverts for

[13] Thus far this explanation of D�j� vu has been appreciated by only one observer. Dr. Ferenczi, to whom

the third edition of this is book is indebted for so many contributions, writes to me concerning this:"I have

been convinced, through myself as well as others, that the inexplicable feeling of familiarity can be referred

to unconscious fantasies of which we are unconsciously reminded in an actual situation. With one of my

patients the process was apparently different but in reality it was quite analogous. This feeling returned to

him very often, but showed itself regularly as originating in a forgotten (repressed) portion of a dream of the

preceding night. Thus it appears that the D�j� vu can originate not only from day dreams but also from night

[14] I can perhaps give the following outline concerning the mechanism of actual forgetting. The memory

material succumbs in general to two influences, condensation and disfigurement. Disfigurement is the work

of the tendencies dominating the psychic life, and directs itself above all against the affective remnants of

memory traces which maintain a more resistive attitude towards condensation. The traces which have grown

indifferent merge into a process of condensation without opposition; in addition it may be observed that

tendencies of disfigurement also feed on the indifferent material, because they have not been gratified where

they wished to manifest themselves. As these processes of condensation and disfigurement continue for long

periods during which all fresh experiences act upon the transformation of the memory content, it is our belief

that it is time that makes memory uncertain and indistinct. It is quite probable that in forgetting there can

really be no question of a direct function of time. From the repressed memory traces it can be verified that

they suffer no changes even in the longest periods. The unconscious, at all events, knows no time limit. The

most important as well as the most peculiar character of psychic fixation consists in the fact that all

impressions are on the one hand retained in the same form as they were received, and also in the forms that

they have assumed in their further development. This state of affairs cannot be elucidated by any comparison

from any other sphere. By virtue of this theory every former state of the memory content may thus be

restored, even though all original relations have long been replaced by newer ones.

[15] Cf. here The Interpretation of Dreams, p. 483� Macmillan: New York ; and Allen : London.